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INIaxi'iliwiac, nr BufTalol)ii<l-\vonian 
Photographed in 1<J10 



uli|0 IlntuprBtty of iHtnnpBnta 



STUDIES IN THE SOCIAL SCIENCES 



NUMBER 9 



AGRICULTURE OF THE HIDATSA INDIANS 
AN INDIAN INTERPRETATION 



BY 



GILBERT LIVINGSTONE WILSON, Ph.D. 




MINNEAPOLIS 

Bulletin of the University of Minnesota 

November 1917 



Huwrf 



Copyright 1917 

BY THE 

University of Minnesota 



^^, ^ — 



G)CI.A47!>4G'^ 



DEC -7 1917 




PREFACE 

The field of primitive economic activity has been largely left unctilti- 
vated by both economists and anthropologists. The present study by 
Mr. Gilbert L. Wilson is an attempt to add to the scanty knowledge 
already at hand on the subject of the economic life of the American Indian. 

The work was begun without theory or thesis, but solely with the 
object of gathering available data from an old woman expert agriculturist 
in one of the oldest agricultural tribes accessible to a student of the 
University of Minnesota. That the study has unexpectedly revealed 
certain varieties of maize of apparently great value to agriculture in the 
semi-arid areas west of Minnesota is a cause of satisfaction to both Mr. 
Wilson and myself. This fact again emphasizes the wisdom of research 
work in our imiversities. When, now and then, such practical dollar- 
and-cent results follow such purely scientific researches, the wonder is 
that imiversitj' research work is not generously endowed by businesses 
which largely profit by these researches. 

It is the intention of those interested in the anthropological work of 
the University of Minnesota that occasional publications will be issued 
by the University on antliropological subjects, although at present there 
is no justification for issuing a consecutive series. The present study is 
the second one in the anthropological field published by the University. 
The earlier one is number 6 in the Studies in the Social Sciences, issued 
March, 1916. 

Albert Ernest Jenks 

Professor of Anthropology 



CONTENTS 

PAGES 

Foreword 1-5 

Chapter I— Tradition 6-8 

Chapter II — Beginning a garden 9-15 

Turtle 9 

Clearing fields 9 

Dispute and its settlement 10 

Turtle breaking soil 11 

Turtle's primitive tools 12 

Beginning a field in later times 13 

Trees in the garden 15 

Our west field 15 

Burning over the field 15 

Chapter III — Sunflowers 16-21 

Remark by Maxi'diwiac 16 

Planting sunflowers 16 

Varieties 16 

Harvesting the seed 17 

Threshing 18 

Harvesting the mapi'-na'ka • 18 

Effect of frost 18 

Parching the seed 19 

Four-vegetables-mixed 19 

Sunflower-seed balls 21 

Chapter IV— Corn 22-67 

Planting 22 

A morning's planting 23 

Soaking the seed 23 

Planting for a sick woman 24 

Size of our biggest field 24 

Na'xu and nu'cami 25 

Hoeing 26 

The watchers' stage 26 

Explanation of sketch of watchers' stage 28 

Sweet Grass's sun shade 30 

The watchers 30 

Booths 31 

Eating customs 32 

Youths' and maidens' customs 33 

Watchers' songs 33 

Clan cousins' custom 34 

Story of Snake-head-ornament 35 

Green corn and its uses 36-41 

The ripening ears 36 

Second planting for green corn 37 

Cooking fresh green corn 37 



CONTENTS V 

Roasting ears 37 

Matu'a-la'kapa 38 

Corn bread 38 

Drying green corn for winter 39 

Mape'di (corn smut) 42 

Mape'di 42 

Harvest and uses 42 

The ripe corn harvest 42-47 

Husking 42 

Rejecting green ears 44 

Braiding corn 45 

The smaller ears 46 

Drying the braided ears 47 

Seed corn 47-49 

Selecting the seed 47 

Keeping two years' seed 48 

Threshing corn 49-58 

The booth 49 

Order of the day's work 52 

The cobs 53 

Winnowing 54 

Removing the booth 55 

Threshing braided corn 57 

Amount of harvest 57 

Sioux purchasing corn 58 

Varieties of corn 58-60 

Description of varieties 58 

How corn travels 59 

Uses of the varieties 60 67 

Ata'ki tso'ki 60 

Mapi' nakapa' 60 

Ma'nakapa 61 

Ata'ki 62 

Boiled corn ball 62 

Tsi'di tso'ki and tsi'di tapa' 62 

Madapo'zi i'ti'a •. 63 

Other soft varieties 63 

Ma'ikadicake 63 

Ma'pi mee'pi i"kiuta, or corn balls 63 

Parched soft corn 64 

Parching whole ripe ears 64 

Parching hard yellow corn with sand 64 

Madapo'zi pa'kici, or lye-made hominy 64 

General characteristics of the varieties 65 

Fodder yield 66 

Developing new varieties 66 

Sport ears 67 

Names and description 67 

Na"ta-tawo'3!i 67 



vi ■ CONTENTS 

Wi'da-aka'ta 67 

I'ta-ca'ca 67 

Okei'jpita 67 

I'tica'kupadi 67 

Chapter V — Squashes 68-81 

Planting squashes 68 

Sprouting the seed 68 

Planting the sprouted seed 69 

Harvesting the squashes 69 

Slicing the squashes 70 

Squash spits 71 

Spitting the slices 72 

In case of rain 73 

Drying and storing 73 

Squash blossoms 75 

Cooking and uses of squash 76 

The first squashes 76 

• . • f Boiling fresh squash in a pot 76 

; ■ '' !' Squashes boiled with blossoms 77 

Other blossom messes 77 

Boiled blossoms 77 

Blossoms boiled with madapo'zi i'ti'a 77 

Blossoms boiled with mapi' nakapa' 78 

Seed squashes 78-81 

Selecting for seed 78 

Gathering the seed squashes 78 

Cooking the ripe squashes 79 

Saving the seed 79 

Eating the seeds 80 

Roasting ripe squashes 80 

Storing the unused seed squashes 80 

Squashes, present seed 81 

Squash dolls 81 

Chapter VI— Beans 82-86 

Planting beans 82 

Putting in the seeds 82 

Hoeing and cultivating 83 

Threshing 83 

Varieties 84 

Selecting seed beans 85 

Cooking and uses 85 

Ama'ca di'he, or beans-boiled 86 

Green beans boiled in the pod 86 

Green corn and beans 86 

Chapter VII— Storing for winter 87-97 

The cache pit 87 

Grass for lining 88 

Grass bundles 89 

The grass binding rope 89 

Drying the grass bundles 89 



CONTENTS ^ij 

The willow floor 

The grass lining 

Skin bottom covering 

Storing the cache pit 

The puncheon cover. . 

93 

Cache pits in Small Ankle's lod^e 

t> Qff 

First account 

A second account on another day 

Diagram of Small Ankle's lodge ^Z 

Chapter VIII— The making of a drying stage 08-104 

Stages in Like-a-fishhook village 

Cutting the timbers ^ 

Digging the post holes 

Raising the frame 

The floor [[ '"^ 

Staying thongs '"" 

Ladder ^°^ 

Enlarging the stage ' ' ""^^ 

Present stages. . . 

^ 1A7 

Building, women's work 

Measurements of stage ^^^ 

Drying rods '^ 

Other uses of the drying stage IO4 

ChapterlX-Tools '.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'..'.'.'.[ ioS-106 

Rate.;::::;::;::;::;::;;:;;:::;;;;;:;;:;;;;;;;;;;;;;;; ^ 

Squash knives . ^ , 

luj 

Chapter X— Fields at Like-a-fishhook village lOS-1 12 

East-side fields 

East-side fences 

Idikita'c's garden , . ^ 

Fields west of the village . , p. 

West-side fence - , , 

Crops, our first wagon , , 2 

Chapter XI — Miscellanea in-1 18 

Divisions between gardens , , ., 

Fallowing, ownership of gardens ,,-> 

Frost in the gardens . , - 

Maxi'diwiac's philosophy of frost jjr 

Men helping in the field j . ^ 

Sucking the sweet juice . . ^ 

Corn as fodder for horses , , ^ 

Disposition of weeds , , , 

The spring clean-up . . , 

Manure , . - 

Worms , , - 

Wild animals . , , 

About old tent covers . , <. 



viii CONTENTS 

Chapter XII — -Since white men came 1 19-120 

How we got potatoes and other vegetables 119 

The new cultivation 120 

Iron kettles 120 

Chapter XIII— Tobacco 121-127 

Observations by Maxi'diwiac 121 

The tobacco garden 121 

Planting 122 

Arrow-head-earring's tobacco garden 122 

Small Ankle's cultivation 122 

Harvesting the blossoms 123 

Harvesting the plants 124 

Selling to the Sioux 125 

Size of tobacco garden 126 

Customs 126 

Accessories to the tobacco garden 126-127 

Fence 126 

The scrotum basket 127 

Old garden sites near Independence 129 



HIDATSA ALPHABET 



a 


as 


a 


in 


what 


e 


(< 


ai 


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air 


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i 


a 


pique 


o 


li 


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a 


tone 


u 


ti 


u 


a 


rule 


a 


ii 


a 


n 


father 


e 


a 


ey 


a 


they 


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i 


(1 


machine 


a 


a 


u 


a 


hut 


e 


It 


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1 


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i 


it 


tin 



c " sh " shun 

* X " ch " maclien (German) 

j " ch " mich (German) 

z " z " azure 

b, d, h, k, 1, m, n, p, r, s, t, w, as in English 
b, w, interchangeable with m 
n, 1, r, interchangeable with d 

An apostrophe (') marks a short, 
nearly inaudible breathing. 

Native Ilidatsa words in this thesis are written in the foregoing alphabet. 
. This docs not apply to the tribal names Hidatsa, Mandan, Dakota, Ankara. 
Minitari. 



AGRICULTURE OF THE HIDATSA INDIANS 
AN INDIAN INTERPRETATION 

FOREWORD 

The Hidatsas, caUed Minitaris by the Mandans. are a Siouan Hnguistic 
tnbe. Their language is closely akin to that of the Crows with whom they 
claim to have once fomied a single tribe; a separation, it is said, followed a 
quarrel over a slain buffalo. 

The name Hidatsa was formerly borne bv one of the tribal villages 
The other villages consolidated with it, and the name was adopted as that 
of the tnbe. The name is said to mean "willows," and it was given the 
village because the god Itsikama'hidic promised that the villagers should 
become as numerous as the willows of the Missouri river. 

Tradition says that the tribe came from Miniwakan, or Devils Lake, 
in what is now North Dakota; and that migrating west, they met the Man- 
dans at the mouth of the Heart River. The two tribes formed an alliance 
and attempted to live together as one people. Quarrels between their young 
men caused the tribes to separate, but the Mandans loyallv aided their 
fnends to build new villages a few miles from their own. How long the 
two tribes dwelt at the mouth of the Heart is not known. They "were 
found there with the Arikaras about 1765. In 1804 Lewis and Clark found 
the Hidatsas in three villages at the mouth of the Knife River, and the Man- 
dans in two villages a few miles lower down on the Missouri. 

In 1832 the artist Catlin visited the two tribes, remaining with them 
several months. A year later Maximihan of Wied visited them with the 
artist Bodmer. Copies of Bodmer's sketches, in beautiful Hthograph, are 
found in the library of the Minnesota Historical Society. Catlin's sketches, 
also in hthograph, are in the Minneapohs PubHc Library. 

Smallpox nearly exterminated the Mandans in 1837-8, not more than 
150 persons surviving. The same epidemic reduced the Hidatsas to about 
500 persons. The remnants of the two tribes united and in 1845 removed 
up the Missouri and built a village at Like-a-fishhook bend close to the 
trading post of Fort Berthold. They were joined by the Arikaras in 1862. 
Neighboring lands were set apart as a reservation for them; and there the 
three tribes, now settled on allotments, still dwell. 

The Mandans and Hidatsas have much intermarried. By custom 
children speak usually the language of their mother, but understand per- 
fectly the dialect of either tribe. 

In 1877 Washington Matthews, for several years government physician 
to the Fort Berthold Reservation Indians, pubHshed a short description of 



2 GILBERT LIVINGSTONE WILSON 

Hidatsa-Maiidan culture and a grammar and vocabulary of the Hidatsa 
language.! More extensive notes intended by him for pubhcation were 
destroyed by fire. 

In 1902 the writer was called to the pastorate of the Presbyterian church 
of Mandan, North Dakota. In ill health, he was advised by his physician 
to purchase pony and gun and seek the open; but spade and pick plied 
among the old Indian sites in the vicinity proved more interesting. A con- 
siderable collection of archaeological objects was accumulated, a part of 
which now rests in the shelves of the Minnesota Historical Society; the 
rest will shortly be placed in the collections of the American Museum of 
Natural History. 

In 1906 the writer and liis brother, Frederick N. Wilson, an artist, and 
E. R. Steinbrueck drove by wagon from Mandan to Independence, Fort 
Berthold reservation. The trip was made to obtain sketches for illustrat- 
ing a volume of stories, since published.* At Independence the party made 
the acquaintance of Edward Goodbird, his mother Maxi'diwiac, and the 
latter's brother Wolf Chief. A friendship was thus begun which has been 
of the greatest value to the writer of this paper. 

A year later Mr. George G. Heyc sent the writer to Fort Berthold 
reservation to collect objects of Mandan-Hidatsa culture. Among those 
that were obtained was a rare old medicine shrine. Description of this 
shrine and Wolf Chief's story of its origin have been published.^ 

In 1908 the writer and his brother, both now resident in Minneapolis, 
were sent by Dr. Clark Wisslcr, curator of anthropology', American Mu- 
semn of Natural History, to begin cultural studies among the Hidatsas. 
This work, generously supported by the Museum, has been continued by the 
writer each succeeding summer. His reports, preparations to edit which 
are now being made, will appear in the Museum's publications. 

In February, 1910, the writer was admitted as a student in the Graduate 
School, University of Minnesota, majoring in Anthropology. At sugges- 
tion of his adviser, Dr. Albert E. Jenks, and with permission of Dr. Wissler, 
he chose for his thesis subject. Agriculture of the Hidatsa Indians: An In- 
dian Interpretation. It was the adviser's opinion that such a study held 
promise of more than usual interest. Most of the tribes in the eastern 
area of what is now the United States practiced agriculture. It is well 
known that maize, potatoes, pumpkins, squashes, beans, sweet potatoes, 
cotton, tobacco, and other familiar plants were cultivated by Indians cen- 
turies before Columbus. Early white settlers learned the value of the new 

' Washington Matthews. Elhnogralthy and Philology of the Hidalsa Indians. U. S. Geological 
and Geographical Survey. 

'Gilbert L. Wilson. Myths of the Red Children. Ginn and Company. 1907. 

• George H. Pepper and Gilbert L. Wilson, .An Hidalsa Shrine and Ihe Beliefs Respecting It. Memoirs 
of the American Anthropological Association. 1908. 



AGRICULTURE OF THE HIDATSA I.XDIAXS 3 

food plants, but have left us meager accounts of the native methods of till- 
age; and the Indians, driven from the fields of their fathers, became roving 
hunters; or adopting iron tools, forgot their primitive implements and 
methods. The Hidatsas and Mandans, shut in their stockaded villages 
on the Missouri by the hostile Sioux, were not able to abandon their fields 
if they would. Living quite out of the main lines of railroad traffic they 
remained isolated and ^\'ith culture almost unchanged until about' 1885 
when their village at Fort Berthold was broken up. It seemed probable 
that a carefully prepared account of Hidatsa agriculture might very neariv 
describe the agriculture practiced by our northern tribes in pre-Columbian 
days. It was hoped that this thesis might be such an account. 

But the writer is a student of anthropology; and his interest in the prep- 
aration of his thesis could not be that of an agriculturist. The question 
arose at the beginning of his labors. Shall the materials of this thesis be 
presented as a study merely in primitive agriculture, or as a phase of ma- 
tenal culture interpreting something of the inner life, of the soul of an 
Indian.' It is the latter aim that the writer endeavors to accomplish 

But again came up a question, By what plan mav this best be done"' 
Ihe more usual way would be to collect exhaustivelv facts from available 
informants; sift from them those facts that are typical and representative- 
and present these, property grouped, with the collector's interpretation 
ot them. But for his purpose and aim, it has seemed to the writer that the 
type choice should be human; that is, instead of seeking tvpical facts from 
multiple sources, he should rather seek a typical informant, a representa- 
tive agriculturist— presumably a woman— of the Indian group to be studied 
and let the informant interpret her agricultural experiences in her own way' 
We might thus expect to learn how much one Indian woman knew of 
agriculture; what she did as an agriculturist and what were her motives 
for doing; and what proportion of her thought and labor were given to her 
fields. 

After consulting both Indians and whites resident on the reservation 
the wnter chose for typical or representati\'c informant, his interpreter's 
mother, Maxi'diwiac. 

The writer's summer visit of 1912 to Fort Berthold Reservation was 
planned to obtain material for his thesis. His brother again accompanied 
him, and tor the expenses of the trip a grant of $500 was made bv Curator 
Wissler. This trip the writer will remember as one of the pleasantest ex- 
penences of his life. The generous interest of Dr. Jenks and Dr Wissler 
in his plans was equaled by the faithful cooperation of interpreter and in- 
formant. The wnter and his brother arrived at the reservation in the be- 
gmmng of com har%'est. As already stated, Maxi'diwiac was the princi- 
pal informant, and her account was taken down almost literallv as trans- 
lated by Goodbird. Models of tools, dr>4ng stage, and other objects per- 



4 GILBERT LIVINGSTONE WILSON 

taining to agriculture were made and photographed, and sketched. Before 
the har\'est closed notes were obtained which furnished the material for 
the greater part of this thesis. 

In the summers of 1913, 1914, and 1915, additional matter was re- 
covered. Previously written notes were read to Maxi'diwiac and correc- 
tions made. 

In addition to the museum's annual grant of $250, Dean A. F. Woods, 
Department of Agriculture, University of Minnesota, in 1914 contributed 
$60 for photographing, and collecting specimens of Hidatsa com; and Mr. 
M. L. Wilson of the Agricultural Experiment Station, Bozeman, Montana, 
obtained for the writer a grant of $50 for like purposes. 

A few words should now be said of informant and interpreter. Maxi'- 
diwiac, or Buffalobird-woman, is a daughter of Small Ankle, a leader of 
the Hidatsas in the trying time of the tribe's removal to what is now Fort 
Berthold reservation. She was bom on one of the villages at Knife River 
two years after the "smallpox year," or about 1839. She is a conservative 
and sighs for the good old times, yet is aware that the younger generation 
of Indians must adopt civilized ways. Ignorant of EngHsh, she has a 
quick intelligence and a memory that is marvelous. To her patience and 
loyal interest is chiefly due whatever of value is in this thesis. In the swel- 
tering heat of an August day she has continued dictation for nine hoiors, 
lying down but never flagging in her account, when too weary to sit longer 
in a chair. Goodbird's testimony that his mother "knows more about 
old ways of raising corn and squashes than any one else on this reserva- 
tion," is not without probability. Until recently, a small part of Good- 
bird's plowed field was each year reserved for her, that she might plant 
com and beans and squashes, cultivating them in old fashioned way, by 
hoe. Such com, of her own planting and selection, has taken first prize 
at an agricultural fair, held recently by the reservation authorities. 

Edward Goodbird, or Tsaka'kas^kic, the writer's interpreter, is a son 
of Maxi'diwiac, born about November, 1869. Goodbird was one of the 
first of the reservation children to be sent to the mission school ; and he is 
now native pastor of the Congregational chapel at Independence. He 
speaks the Hidatsa, Mandan, Dakota, and English languages. Goodbird 
is a natural student; and he has the rarer gift of being an artist. His 
sketches — and they are many — are crude; but they are drawn in true per- 
spective and do not lack spirit. Goodbird's life, dictated by himself, has 
been recently published.* 

Indians have the gentle custom of adopting very dear friends by rela- 
tionship terms. By such adoption Goodbird is the writer's brother; 
Maxi'diwiac is his mother. 

* Gilbert L. WUson, Goodbird, the Indian: His Story. Fleming H. Revell Co. 1914. 



AGRICULTURE OF THE IIIDATSA INDIANS 5 

For his part in the account of the Agriculture of the Hidatsa Indians, 
the writer claims no credit beyond arranging the material and putting the 
interpreter's Indian-English translations into proper idiom. Bits of 
Indian philosophy and shrewd or humorous observations found in the 
narrative are not the writer's, but the informant's, and are as they fell 
from her lips. The writer has sincerely endeavored to add to the narra- 
tive essentially nothing of his own. 

Agriculture of the Hidatsa Indians is not, then, an account merely of 
Indian agriculture. It is an Indian woman's interpretation of economics; 
the thoughts she gave to her fields; the philosophy of her labors. May the 
Indian woman's story of her toil be a plea for our better appreciation of 
her race. 



CHAPTER I 
TRADITION 

We Hidatsas believe that our tribe once lived under the waters of Devils 
Lake. Some hunters discovered the root of a vine growing downward; 
and climbing it, they found themselves on the surface of the earth. Others 
followed them, until half the tribe had escaped; but the vine broke under 
the weight of a pregnant woman, leaving the rest prisoners. A part of 
our tribe are therefore still beneath the lake. 

My father, Small Ankle, going, when a young man, on a war party, 
visited Devils Lake. "Beneath the waves," he said, "I heard a faint 
drumming, as of drums in a big dance." This story is true; for Sioux, who 
now live at Devils Lake, have also heard this drumming. 

Those of my people who escaped from the lake built villages near by. 
These were of earth lodges, such as my tribe built until very recent years; 
two such earth lodges are still standing on this reservation. 

The site where an earth lodge has stood is marked by an earthen ring, 
rising about what was once the hard trampled floor. There are many such 
earthen rings on the shores of Devils Lake, showing that, as tradition says, 
our villages stood there. There were three of these villages, my father 
said, who several times visited the sites. 

Near their villages, the people made gardens ; and in these they planted 
ground beans and ^^-ild potatoes, from seed brought with them from their 
home under the water. These vegetables we do not cultivate now; but 
we do gather them in the fall, in the woods along the Missouri where they 
grow wild. They are good eating. 

These gardens by Devils Lake I think must have been rather small. I 
know that in later times, whenever my tribe removed up the Missouri to 
build a new village, our fields, the first year, were quite small ; for clearing 
the wooded bottom land was hard work. A family usually added to their 
clearing each year, until their garden was as large as they cared to cultivate. 

As yet, my people knew nothing of com or squashes. One day a war 
party, I think of ten men, wandered west to the Missouri River. They 
saw on the other side a village of earth lodges like their own. It was a 
village of the Mandans. The villagers saw the Hidatsas, but like them, 
feared to cross over, lest the strangers prove to be enemies. 

It was autumn, and the Missouri River was running low so that an 
arrow could be shot from shore to shore. The Mandans parched some ears 
of ripe corn with the grain on the cob; they broke the ears in pieces, thrust 
the pieces on the points of arrows, and shot them across the river. "Eat!" 
they said, whether by voice or signs, I do not know. The word for "eat" 
is the same in the Hidatsa and Mandan languages. 



AGRICULTURE OF THE HIDATSA INDIANS 7 

The warriors ate of the parched corn, and liked it. They returned to 
their village and said, "We have found a people hving by the Missouri 
River who have a strange kind of grain, which we ate and found good!" 
The tribe was not much interested and made no effort to seek the Alandans, 
fearing, besides, that they might not be friendly. 

However, a few years after, a war party of the Hidatsas crossed the 
Missovxri and visited the Mandans at their village near Bird Beak Hill. 
The Mandan chief took an ear of yellow corn, broke it in two, and gave 
half to the Hidatsas. This half-ear the Hidatsas took home, for seed; and 
soon every family was planting yellow corn. 

I think that seed of other varieties of com, and of beans, scjuashes, and 
sunflowers, were gotten of the Mandans' afterwards; but there is no story 
telling of this, that I know. 

I do not know when my people stopped planting ground beans and wild 
potatoes; but ground beans are hard to dig, and the people, anyway, liked 
the new kind of beans better. 

Whether the ground beans and wild potatoes of the Missouri bottoms 
are descended from the seed planted by the villagers at Devils Lake, I 
do not know. 

My tribe, as our old men tell us, after they got corn, abandoned their 
villages at Devils Lake, and joined the iVlandans near the mouth of the 
Heart River. The Mandans helped them build new villages here, near 
their own. I think this was hundreds of years ago. 

Firewood growing scarce, the two tribes removed up the Missouri to 
the mouth of the Knife River, where they built the Five Villages, as they 
called them. Smallpox was brought to my people here, by traders. In a 
single year, more than half my tribe died, and of the Mandans, even more. 

Those who survived removed up the Missouri and built a village at 
Likc-a-fishhook bend, where they lived together, Hidatsas and Mandans, 
as one tribe. This village we Hidatsas called Mu'a-idu'skupe-hi'ccc, or 

1 "In the garden vegetable family are five; com. beans, squashes, sunflowers, and tobacco. The 
seeds of all these plants were brought up from beneath the ground hy the Mandan people. 

"Now the corn, as we believe, has an enemy — the sun who tries to burn the com. But at night, when 
the sun has gone down, the corn has magic power. It is the corn that brings the night moistures — the early 
morning mist and fog, and the dew — as you can see yourself in the morning from the water dripping from 
the com leaves. Thus the corn grows and keeps on until it is ripe. 

"The sun may scorch the corn and try hard to dry it up, but the corn takes care of itself, bringing the 
moistures that make the corn, and also the beans, sunflowers, squashes, and tobacco grow. 

"The corn possesses all this magic power. 

"When you white people met our Mandan people we gave to the whites the name Maci', or Waci', 
meaning nice people, or pretty people. We called them by this name because they had white faces and 
wore fine clothes. We said also 'We will call these people our friendsl' And from that time to this we 
have never made war on white men. 

"Our Mandan corn must now be all over the world, for we gave the white men our seeds. And so it 
seems we Mandans have helped every people. But the seed of our varieties of corn were originally ours. 

"We know that white men must also have had corn seed, for their corn is different from ours. But 
all we older folk can tell our native corn from that of white men." — Wounded Face (Mandan) 



8 GILBERT LIVINGSTONE WILSON 

Like-a-fishhook village, after the bend on which it stood; but white men 
called it Fort Berthold, from a trading post that was there. 

We lived in Like-a-fishhook village about forty years, or until 1885, when 
the government began to place families on allotments. 

The agriculture of the Hidatsas, as I now describe it, I saw practiced 
in the gardens of Like-a-fishhook village, in my girlhood, before my 
tribe owned plows. 




An earth lodge 

Xote ladder at right of lodge entrance. Drying stafje before entrance lacks the usual railings. 
(Photograph by courtesy of Rev. George Curtis.) 




>,^..^ „.-..*-*«,ivi 



iUBi^^ 




Like-a-fishhook village in process of being dismantled i,al)Oiil 1S85) 

Drying stage in foreground is floored Arikara fashion with a mat of willows. The Arikaras at this 
time had joined the Hidatsa-Mandans. (Photograph by courtesy of Rev. George Curtis.) 



CHAPTER II 
BEGINNING A GARDEN 

Turtle 

My great-grandmother, as white men count their kin, was named 
Ata'kic, or Soft -white Com. She adopted a daughter, Mata'tic, or Turtle. 
Some years after, a daughter was bom to Ata'kic, whom she named Otter. 

Turtle and Otter both married. Turtle had a daughter named Ica'wikec, 
or Com Sucker ;' and Otter had three daughters, Want-to-be-a-woman, Red 
Blossom, and Strikes-many-women, all younger than Corn Sucker. 

The smallpox year at Five Villages left Otter's family with no male 
members to support them. Turtle and her daughter were then living in 
Otter's lodge; and Otter's daughters, as Indian custom bade, called Com 
Sucker their elder sister. 

It was a custom of the Hidatsas, that if the eldest sister of a household 
married, her younger sisters were also given to her husband, as they came 
of marriageable age. Left without male kin by the smallpox, my grand- 
mother's family was hard put to it to get meat ; and Turtle gladly gave her 
daughter to my father. Small Ankle, whom she knew to be a good hunter. 
Otter's daughters, reckoned as Com Sucker's sisters, were given to Small 
Ankle as they grew up; the eldest, Want-to-be-a-woman, was my mother. 

When I was four years old, my tribe and the Mandans came to Like-a- 
fishhook bend. They came in the spring and camped in tepees, or skin 
tents. By Butterfly's wdnter count, I know they began building earth 
lodges the next winter. I was too young to remember much of this. 

Two years after we came to Like-a-fishhook bend, smallpox again visited 
my tribe; and my mother, Want-to-be-a-woman, and Com Sucker, died 
of it. Red Blossom and Strikes-many-women survived, whom I now 
called my mothers. Otter and old Turtle lived with us; I was taught to 
call them my grandmothers. 

Clearing Fields 

Soon after they came to Like-a-fishhook bend, the families of my tribe 
began to clear fields, for gardens, hke those they had at Five Villages. 
Rich black soil was to be found in the timbered bottom lands of the Mis- 
souri. Most of the work of clearing was done by the women. 

In old times we Hidatsas never made our gardens on the untimbered, 
prairie land, because the soil there is too hard and dry. In the bottom 
lands by the Missouri, the soil is soft and easy to work. 

* Corn sucker, i. e., the extra shoot or stem that often springs up from the base of the maize plant. 



10 



GILBERT LIVINGSTONE WILSON 



Lone- 
field 









Ooes-to-nent-Timbers 
field 



My mothers and my two 
grandmothers worked at 
clearing our family's gar- 
den. It lay east of the 
village at a place where 
many other families were 
clearing fields. 

I was too small to note 
very much at first. But I 
remember that my father 
set boundary marks — 
whether wooden stakes or 
little mounds of earth or 
stones, I do not now re- 
member — at the comers of 
the field we claimed. My 
mothers and my two grand- 
mothers began at one end 
of this field and worked forward. All had heavy iron hoes, except Turtle, 
who used an old fashioned wooden digging stick. 

With their hoes, my mothers cut the long grass that covered much of 
the field, and bore it off the line, to be burned. With the same implements, 
they next dug and softened the soil in places for the com hills, which 
were laid off in rows. These hills they planted. Then all summer thej' 
worked with their hoes, clearing and breaking the ground between the hills. 
Trees and bushes I know must have been cut off with iron axes; but I 
remember little of this, because I was only four years old when the clear- 
ing was begun. 

I have heard that in very old times, when clearing a new field, my people 
first dug the com hills with digging sticks; and afterwards, like my mothers, 
worked between the hills, with bone hoes. My father told me this. 

Whether stone axes were used in old times to cut the trees and under- 
growths, I do not know. I think fields were never then laid out on ground 
that had large trees on it. 



Figure 1 

Map of newly broken field drawn under Buffalobird- 
woman's direction. The heavy dots represent corn hills; the 
dashes, the clearing and breaking of ground between, done after 
hills were planted. 

In the lower left hand corner is the ground that was in 
dispute. 



Dispute and Its Settlement 

About two years after the first ground was broken in our field, a dispute 
I remember, arose between my mothers and two of their neighbors. Lone 
Woman and Goes-to-next-timber. 

These two women were clearing fields adjoining that of my mothers; 
as will be seen by the accompanying map (figure 1), the three fields met 
at a comer. I have said that my father, to set up claim to his field, had 



AGRICULTURE OF THE HIDATSA IXDIANS 11 

placed marks, one of them in the comer at which met the fields of Lone 
Woman and Goes-to-next-timber; but while my mothers were busy clear- 
ing and digging up the other end of their field, their two neighbors invaded 
this marked-off corner; Lone Woman had even dug up a small i-iart before 
she was discovered. 

However, when they were shown the mark my father had placed, the 
two women yielded and accepted payment for any rights they might have. 

It was our Indian rule to keep our fields very sacred. Wc did not like 
to quarrel about our garden lands. One's title to a field once set up, no 
one ever thought of disputing it; for if one were selfish and quaiTelsome, and 
tried to seize land belonging to another, we thought some evil would come 
upon him, as that some one of liis family would die. There is a story of a 
black bear who got into a pit that was not his own, and had his mind taken 
away from him for doing so ! 

Turtle Breaking Soil 

Lone Woman and Goes-to-next-timber having withdrawn, my grand- 
mother, Turtle, volunteered to break the soil of the corner that had been in 
dispute. She was an industrious woman. Often, when my mothers were 
busy in the earth lodge, she would go out to work in the garden, taking me 
with her for company. I was six j-ears old then, I think, quite too little 
to help her an}', but I liked to watch my grandmother work. 

With her digging stick, she dug up a little round place in the center of 
the comer (figure 1) ; and circHng around this from day to day, she gradually 
enlarged the dug-up space. The point of her digging stick she forced into 
the soft earth to a depth ecjual to the length of my hand, and pried up the 
soil. The clods she stmck smartly with her digging stick, sometimes with 
one end, sometimes with the other. Roots of coarse grass, weeds, small 
brush and the Hke, she took in her hand and shook, or struck them against 
the ground, to knock off the loose earth clinging to them; she then cast them 
into a little pile to dry. 

In this way she accumulated little piles, scattered rather irregularly over 
the dug-up ground, averaging, perhaps, four feet, one from the other. In 
a few days these httle piles had dried; and Turtle gathered them up into 
a heap, about four feet high, and burned them, sometimes within the cleared 
ground, sometimes a little way outside. 

In the comer that had been in dispute, and in other parts of the field, 
my grandmother worked all summer. I do not remember how big our 
garden was at the end of her summer's work, nor how many piles of roots 
she burned; but I remember distincth' how she ]out the roots of weeds and 
grass and brush into little piles to dry, which she then gathered into heaps and 
burned. She did not attempt to burn overthewholcground. only the heaps. 



12 



GILBERT LIVINGSTONE WILSON 



Afterwards, we increased our garden from year to year until it was as 
large as we needed. I remember seeing my grandmother digging along the 
edges of the garden with her digging stick, to enlarge the field and make the 
edges even and straight. 

I remember also, that as Turtle dug up a little space, she would wait 
until the next season to plant it. Thus, additional ground dug up in the 
summer or fall would be planted by her the next spring. 

There were two or three elm trees in the garden; these my grandmother 
left standing. 

It must not be supposed that upon Turtle fell all the work of clearing 



Fig. 2 




Fieiire 2. Drawn from specimen in author's collection. Length of specimen, 37H 



inches. 



Figure 3. Drawn from model made by Buffalobird-woman, duplicating that 
used by her grandmother. Specimen is of full size. Length of wooden handle, 35 
inches; length of bone blade, 8>^ inches. The blade is made of the shoulder bone of 
an ox. 



land to enlarge our garden; but she liked to have me with 
her when she worked, and I remember best what I saw her do. 
As I was a little girl then, I have forgotten much that she did ; 
but this that I have told, I remember distinctly. 



Turtle's Primitive Tools 

In breaking groimd for our garden. Turtle always used an ash digging 
stick (figure 2) ; and when hoeing time came, she hoed the com with a bone 
hoe (figure 3). Digging sticks are still used in my tribe for digging wild 
turnips; but even in my grandmother's Hfetime, digging sticks and bone 
hoes, as garden tools, had aU but given place to iron hoes and axes. 

My grandmother was one of the last women of my tribe to cling to these 
old fashioned implements. Two other women, I remember, owned bone 
hoes when I was a Uttle girl; but Turtle, I think, was the very last one in 
the tribe who actually worked in her garden with one. 



AGRICULTURE OF THE III DATS A INDIANS 13 

This hoe my grandmother kept in the lodge, under her bed; and when 
any of the children of the household tried to get it out to look at it, she would 
cry, "Let that hoe alone; you wll break it!" 

Beginning a Field in Later Times 

As I grew up, I learned to work in the garden, as every Hidatsa woman 
was expected to learn; but iron axes and hoes, bought of the traders, were 
now used by everybody, and the work of clearing and breaking a new field 
was less difficult than it had been in oiu" grandfathers' times. A family had 
also greater freedom in choosing where they should have their garden, since 
with iron axes they could more easily cut down any small trees and bushes 
that might be on the land. However, to avoid having to cut down big trees, 
a rather open place was usually chosen. 

A family, then, having chosen a place for a field, cleared off the ground 
as much as they could, cutting down small trees and bushes in such way 
that the trees fell all in one direction. Some of the timber that was fit 
might be taken home for firewood; the rest was let lie to dry until spring, 
when it was fired. The object of felling the trees in one direction was to 
make them cover the ground as much as possible, since firing them softened 
the soil and left it loose and mellow for planting. We sought always to 
bum over all the ground, if we could. 

Before firing, the family carefully raked oft' the dry grass and leaves 
from the edge of the field, and cut down any brush wood. This was done 
that the fire might not spread to the surrounding timber, nor out on the 
prairie. Prairie fires and forest fires are even yet not unknown on our 
reservation. 

Planting season having come, the women of the household planted the 
field in com. The hills were in rows, and about four feet or a little less 
apart. They were rather irregularly placed the first year. It was easy to 
make a hill in the ashes where a brush heap had been fired, or in soil that was 
free of roots and stumps; but there were many stumps in the field, left over 
from the previous summer's clearing. If the planter found a stump stood 
where a hill should be, she placed the hill on this side the stump or bej'ond 
it, no matter how close this brought the hill to the next in the row. Thus, 
the com hills did not stand at even distances in the row the first year; but 
the rows were always kept even and straight. 

While the com was coming up, the women worked at clearing out the 
roots and smaller stumps between the hills; but a stump of any consider- 
able size was left to rot, especially if it stood midway between two com 
hills, where it did not interfere with their cultivation. 

My mothers and I used to labor in a similar way to enlarge our fields. 
With our iron hoes we made liills along the edge of the field and planted 



14 



GILBERT LIVINGSTONE WILSON 



corn; then, as we had opportunity, we worked with our hoes between the 
corn hills to loosen up the soil. 





Figure 4 
Drawn from specimen 
made by Yellow Hair. 
Length of specimen, fol- 
lowing curvature of tines, 
36^ inches. 



Figure 5 

Drawn from specimen made by 
Buf f alobird-woman. Length of 
wooden handle, 42 inches; spread of 
tines of antler, IS.'i^ inches. 



Although our tribe now had iron axes and hoes from the traders, they 
still used their native made rakes. These were of wood (figure 4), or of 
the antler of a black-tailed deer (figure 5). It was with such rakes that 
the edges of a newly opened field were cleaned of leaves for the firing of the 
brush, in the spring. 



I. 











In the field with a horn rake 




Hoeing squashes with a bone hoe 



AGRICULTURE OF THE HIPATSA INDIANS IS 

Trees in the Garden 

Trees were not left standing in the garden, except perhaps one to shade 
the watchers' stage. If a tree stood in the field, it shaded the corn; and 
that on the north side of the tree never grew up strong, and the stalks would 
be yellow. 

Cottonwood trees were apt to grow up in the field, unless the young 
shoots were plucked up as they appeared. 

Our West Field 

The field which Turtle helped to clear, lay, I have said, east of the vil- 
lage. I was about nineteen years old, I think, when my mothers deter- 
mined to clear ground for a second field, west of the village. 

There were five of us who undertook the work, my father, my two moth- 
ers, Red Blossom and Strikes-many-women, my sister, Cold Medicine, and 
myself. We began in the fall, after harvesting the com from our east 
garden, so that we had leisure for the work; we had been too busy to begin 
carhcr in the season. 

We chose a place down in the bottoms, overgrown with willows; and 
with our axes we cut the willows close to the ground, letting them lie as 
I hey fell. 

I do not know how many days we worked; but we stopped when we had 
cleared a field of about seventy-five by one hundred yards, perhaps. In 
our east, or yellow corn field, we counted nine rows of corn to one na'xu; 
and I remember that when we came to plant our new field, it had nine na'xu. 

Burning Over the Field 

The next spring my father, his two wives, my sister and I went out and 
Imrned the felled willows and brtish which the spring sun had dried. We 
did not burn them every day ; only when the weather was fine. We would 
go out after breakfast, burn until tired of the work, and come home. 

We sought to bum over the whole field, for we knew that this left a 
good, loose soil. We did not pile the willows in heaps, but loosened them 
from the ground or scattered them loosely but evenly over the soil. In 
some places the ground was quite bare of willows; but we collected dry 
grass and weeds and dead willows, and strewed them over these bare places, 
so that the fire would run over the whole area of the field. 

It took us about four days to burn over the field. 

It was well known in my tribe that burning over new ground left the 
soil soft and easy to work, and for this reason we thought it a wise thing 
to do. 



CHAPTER III 

SUNFLOWERS 

Remark by Maxi'diwiac 

This that I am going to tell you of the planting and harvesting of our 
crops is out of my own experience, seen with my own eyes. In olden times, 
I know, my tribe used digging sticks and bone hoes for garden tools; and 
I have described how I saw my grandmother use them. There may be 
other tools or garden customs once in use in my tribe, and now forgotten; 
of them I cannot speak. There were families in Like-a-fishhook village 
less industrious than ours, and some families may have tilled their fields 
in ways a little different; of them, also, I can not speak. This that I now 
teU is as I saw my mothers do, or did myself, when I was young. My 
mothers were industrious women, and our family had always good crops; 
and I will tell now how the women of my father's family cared for their 
fields, as I saw them, and helped them. 

Planting Sunflowers 

The first seed that we planted in the spring was simflower seed. Ice 
breaks on the Missouri about the first week in April; and we planted sun- 
flower seed as soon after as the soil could be worked. Our native name for 
the lunar month that corresponds most nearly to April, is Mapi'-o'ce-mi'di, 
or Sunflower-planting-moon. 

Planting was done by hoe, or the woman scooped up the soil with her 
hands. Three seeds were planted in a hill, at the depth of the second joint 
of a woman's finger. The three seeds were planted together, pressed into 
the loose soil by a single motion, with thumb and first two fingers. The 
hill was heaped up and patted firm with the palm in the same way as we 
did for com. 

Usually we planted sunflowers only around the edges of a field. The 
hills were placed eight or nine paces apart; for we never sowed sunflowers 
thickly. We thought a field surrounded thus by a sparce-sown row of 
sunflowers, had a handsome appearance. 

Sometimes all three seeds sprouted and came up together; sometimes 
only two sprouted; sometimes one. 

Varieties 

Of cultivated sunflowers we had several varieties, black, white, red, 
striped, named from the color of the seed. The varieties differed only in 
color; all had the same taste and smell, and were treated alike in cooking. 

16 



AGRICULTURE OF THE IIIDATSA INDIANS 17 

White sunflower seed when pounded into meal, turned dark, but I think 
this was caused by the parching. 

Each family raised the variety they preferred. The varieties were well 
fixed; black seed produced black; white seed, white. 

Harvesting the Seed 

Although our sunflower seed was the first crop to be planted in the 
spring, it was the last to be harvested in the fall. 

For harvesting, we reckoned two kinds of flowers, or heads. 

A stalk springing from seed of one of our cultivated varieties had one, 
sometimes two, or even thfee larger heads, heavy and full, bending the top 
of the stalk with their weight of seed. Some of these big heads had each a 
seed area as mvich as eleven inches across; and yielded each an even double 
handful of seed. We called the seed from these big heads mapi'-i'ti'a from 
mapi', sunflower, or sunflower seed, and i'ti'a, big. 

Besides these larger heads, there were other and smaller heads on the 
stalk; and wild sunflowers bearing similar small heads grew in many places 
along the Missouri, and were sure to be found springing up in abandoned 
gardens. These smaller heads of the cultivated, and the heads of the wild, 
plants, were never more than five inches across; and these and their seed 
we called mapi'-na'ka, sunflower's child or baby sunflower. 

Our sunflowers were ready for harvesting when the little petals that 
covered the seeds fell off, exposing the ripe seeds beneath. Also, the back 
of the head turned yellow; earlier in the season it would be green. 

To harvest the larger heads, I put a basket on my back, and knife in 
hand, passed from plant to plant, cutting off each large head close to the 
stem; the severed heads I tossed into my basket. These heads I did not 
let dry on the stalk, as birds would devour the seeds. 

My basket filled, I returned to the lodge, climbed the ladder to the 
roof, and spread the sunflower heads upon the flat part of the roof around 
the smoke hole, to dry. The heads were laid face downward, with the 
backs to the sun. When I was a girl, only three or four earth lodges in the 
village had peaked roofs; and these lodges were rather small. All the 
larger and better lodges, those of what we deemed wealthier famihes, were 
built with the top of the roof flat, like a floor. A flat roof was useful to dry 
things on; and when the weather was fair, the men often sat there and 
gossiped. 

The sunflower heads were dried face downward, that the sun falling on 
the back of the head might dry and shrink the fiber, thus loosening the seeds. 
The heads were laid flat on the bare roof, without skins or other protection 
beneath. If a storm threatened, the unthreshed heads were gathered up 
and borne into the lodge; but they were left on the roof overnight, if the 
weather was fair. 



18 GILBERT LIVINGSTONE WILSON 

When the heads had dried about four days, the seeds were threshed 
out; and I would fetch in from the garden another supply of heads to dry 
and thresh. 

Threshing 

To thresh the heads, a skin was spread and the heads laid on it face 
downward, and beaten with a stick. Threshing might be on the ground, 
or on the flat roof, as might be convenient. 

An average threshing filled a good sized basket, with enough seed left 
over to make a small package. 

Harvesting the Mapi'-na'ka 

The smaller heads of the cultivated plants were sometimes gathered, 
dried, and threshed, as were the larger heads; but if the season was getting 
late and frost had fallen, and the seeds were getting loose in their pods, I 
more often threshed these smaller heads and those of the wild plants di- 
rectly from the stalk. 

For tiiis I bore a carrying basket, swinging it around over my breast 
instead of my back; and going about the garden or into the places where 
the wild plants grew, I held the basket under these smaller, or baby sun- 
flower heads, and beating them smartly with a stick, threshed the seeds into 
the basket. It took me about half a day to thresh a basket half full. The 
seeds I took home to dry, before sacking them. 

The seeds from the baby sunflowers of both wild and cultivated plants 
were sacked together. The seeds of the large heads were sacked separately ; 
and in the spring, when we came to plant, our seed was always taken from 
the sack containing the harvest of the larger heads. 

In my father's family, we usually stored away two, sometimes three 
sacks of dried sunflower seed for winter use. Sacks were made of skins, 
perhaps fourteen inches high and eight inches in diameter, on an average. 

Sunflower harvest came after we had threshed our corn; and corn 
threshing was in the first part of October. 

Effect of Frost 

Because they were gathered later, the seeds of baby sunflowers were 
looked upon as a kind of second crop; and as I have said, they were kept 
apart from the earlier harvest, because seed for planting was selected from 
the larger and earlier gathered heads. Gathered thus late, this second 
crop was nearly always touched by the frost, even before the seeds were 
threshed from the stalks. 

This frosting of the seeds had an effect upon them that we rather 
esteemed. We made a land of oily meal from sunflower seed, by pounding 



AGRICULTURE OF THE HIDATSA INDIANS 19 

them in a corn mortar; but meal made from seed that had been frosted, 
seemed more oily than that from seed gathered before frost fell. The 
freezing of the seeds seemed to bring the oil out of the crushed kernels. 

This was well known to us. The large heads, left on the roof over night, 
were sometimes caught by the frost; and meal made from their seed was 
more oily than that from unfrosted seed. Sometimes we took the threshed 
seed out of doors and let it get frosted, so as to bring out this oihness. 
Frosting the seeds did not kill them. 

The oiliness brought out by the frosting was more apparent in the seeds 
of baby sunflowers than in seeds of the larger heads. Seeds of the latter 
seemed never to have as much oil in them as seeds of the baby sunflowers. 

Parching the Seed 

To make smiflower meal the seeds were first roasted, or parched. This 
was done in a clay pot, for iron pots were scarce in my tribe when I was young. 
The clay pot in use in my father's family was about a foot high and eight 
or nine inches in diameter, as you see from measurements I make with my 
hands. 

This jiot I set on the lodge fire, working it down into the coals with a 
rocking motion, and raked coals around it; the mouth I tipped slightly 
toward me. I threw into the pot two or three double-handfuls of the seeds 
and as they parched, I stirred them with a little stick, to keep them from 
burning. Now and then I took out a seed and bit it; if the kernel was soft 
and gummy, I knew the pawrliing was not done; but when it bit dry and 
crisp, I knew the seeds were cooked and I dipped them out with a honi 
spoon into a wooden bowl. 

Again I threw into the pot two or three duuljle-handfuls of seed to parcii; 
and so, until I had enough. 

As the pot grew qtiite hot I was careful not to touch it with my hands. 
The parching done, I lifted the pot out, first throwing over it a piece of old 
tent cover to protect my two hands. 

Parching the seeds caused them to crack open somewhat. 

The parched seeds were pounded in the corn mortar to make meal. 
Pounding sunflower seeds took longer, and was harder work, than pounding 
corn. 

Four-vcgctablcs-nn'xcd 

Sunflower meal was used in making a dish that we called do'patsa- 
makihi'ke, or four-vegetables-mixcd ; from do'patsa, four things; and 
makihi'ke, mixed or put together. Four-vegetables-mixed we thought our 
very best dish. 

To make this dish, enough for a family of five, I did as follows: 



20 GILBERT LIVINGSTONE WILSON 

I put a clay pot with water on the fire. 

Into the pot I threw one double-handfiil of beans. This was a fixed 
quantity; I put in just one double-handful whether the family to be served 
was large or small; for a larger quantity of beans in this dish was apt to 
make gas on one's stomach. 

When we dried squash in the fall we strung the slices upon strings of 
twisted grass, each seven Indian fathoms long; an Indian fathom is the 
distance between a woman's two hands outstretched on either side. From 
one of these seven-fathom strings I cut a piece as long as from my elbow 
to the tip of my thumb; the two ends of the severed piece I tied together, 
making a ring; and this I dropped into the pot with the beans. 

When the squash slices were well cooked I lifted them out of the pot 
by the grass string into a wooden bowl. With a horn spoon I chopped and 
mashed the cooked squash slices into a mass, which I now returned to the 
pot with the beans. The grass string I threw away. 




Figure 6 
Drawn from specimens in author's collection. 

To the mess I now added four or five double-handfuls of mixed meal, of 
pounded parched sunflower seed and pounded parched corn. The whole 
was boiled for a few minutes more, and was ready for serving. 

I have already told how we parched sunflower seed ; and that I used two 
or three double-handfuls of seed to a parching. I used two parchings of 
sunflower seed for one mess of four- vegetables-mixed. I also used two 
parchings of com ; but I put niore corn into the pot at a parching than 
I did of sunflower seed. 

Pounding the parched com and sunflower seed reduced their bulk so 
that the four parchings, two of sunflower seed and two of corn, made but 
four or live double-handfuls of the mixed meal. 

Four- vegetables-mixed was eaten freshly cooked; and the mixed com- 
and-svmflower meal was made fresh for it each time. A little alkali salt 
might be added for seasoning, but even this was not usual. No other sea- 
soning was used. Meat was not boiled with the mess, as the sunflower seed 
gave sufficient oil to furnish fat. 



AGRICULTURE OF THE HI DATS A INDIANS 21 

Four-vegetables-mixed was a winter food; and the squash used in its 
making was dried, sliced squash, never green, fresh squash. 

The clay pot used for boiling this and other dishes was about the size 
of an iron dinner pot, or even larger. For a large family, the pot might 
be as much as thirteen or fourteen inches high. I have described that in 
use in my father's family. 

When a mess of four-vegetables-mixed was cooked, I did not remove 
the pot from the coals, but dipped out the vegetables with a mountain- 
sheep horn spoon, into wooden bowls (figure 6.) 

Sunflower-seed Balls 

Sunflower meal of the parched seeds was also used to make sunflower 
seed balls; these were important articles of diet in olden times, and had a 
particular use. 

For sunflower-seed balls I parched the seeds in a pot in the usual way, 
put them in a com mortar and pounded them. When they were reduced 
to a fine meal I reached into the mortar and took out a handful of the meal, 
squeezing it in the fingers and palm of my right hand. This squeezing it 
made it into a kind of lump or ball. 

This ball I enclosed in the two palms and gently shook it. The shaking 
brought out the oil of the seeds, cementing the particles of the meal and 
making the lump firm. I have said that frosted seeds gave out more oil 
than imfrosted ; and that baby sunflower seeds gave out more oil than seeds 
from the big heads. 

In olden times every warrior earned a bag of soft skin at his left side, 
supported by a thong over his right shoulder; in this bag he kept needles, 
sinews, awl, soft tanned skin for making patches for moccasins, gun caps, and 
the like. The warrior's powder horn hung on the outside of this bag. 

In the bottom of this soft-skin bag the warrior commonly carried one 
of these sunflower-seed balls, wrapped in a piece of buffalo-heart skin. 
When worn with fatigue or overcome with sleep and weariness, the warrior 
took out his sunflower-seed ball, and nibbled at it to refresh himself. It 
was amazing what effect nibbling at the sunflower-seed ball had. If the 
warrior was weary, he began to feel fresh again ; if sleepy, he grew wakeful. 

Sometimes the warrior kept his sunflower-seed ball in his flint case 
that hung always at his belt over his right hip. 

It was quite a general custom in my tribe for a warrior or hunter to 
carry one of these sunflower-seed balls. 

We called the sunflower-seed ball mapi', the same name as for sunflower. 

Sunflower meal, parched and pounded as described, was often mixed 
with com balls, to which it gave an agreeable smell, as well as a pleasant 
taste. 



CHAPTER IV 
CORN 

Planting 

Com planting began the second month after sunflower-seed was planted, 
that is in May; and it lasted about a month. It sometimes continued 
pretty well into June, but not later than that ; for the sun then begins to go 
back into the south, and men began to tell eagle-hunting stories. 

We knew when corn planting time came by observing the leaves of the 
wild gooseberry bushes. This bush is the first of the woods to leaf in the 
spring. Old women of the village were going to the woods daily to gather 
fire wood; and when they saw that the wild gooseberry bushes were almost 
in full leaf, they said, "It is time for you to begin planting corn!" 

Corn was planted each year in the same hills. 

Around each of the old and dead hills I loosened the soil with my hoe, 
first pulling tip the old, dead roots of the previous year's plants; these dead 
roots, as they collected, were raked off with other refuse to one end of the 
field outside of the cultivated ground, to be burned. 

This pulling up of the dead roots and working around the old hill with 
the hoe, left the soil soft and loose for the space of about eighteen inches 
in diameter; and in this soft soil I planted the corn in this manner: 

I stooped over, and with fingers of both hands I raked away the loose 
soil for a bed for the seed ; and with my fingers I even stirred the soil around 
with a circular motion to make the bed perfectly level so that the seeds 
would all lie at the same depth. 

A small vessel, usually a wooden bowl, at my feet held the seed corn. 
With my right hand I took a small handful of the corn, qtiickly transferring 
half of it to my left hand ; still stooping over, and plying both hands at the 
same time, I pressed the grains a half inch into the soil with my thumbs, 
planting two grains at a time, one with each hand. 

I planted about six to eight grains in a hill' (figure 7). Then with 
my hands I raked the earth over the planted grains until the seed lay 

• Buffalobird-woman says she planted six to eight kernels to a hill. Just what pattern she used she 
could not tell until she went out with a handful of seed and planted a few hills to revive her memory. The 
three patterns shown in figure 7 will show how she laid the grains in the bottom of the several hills. 

■ — Gilbert L. Wilson 



Figure ' 

22 



AGRICULTURE OF THE HIDATSA INDIA. \S 23 

about the length of my fingers under the soil. Finally I patted the hill 
firm with my palms. 

The space within the hill in which the seed kernels were planted should 
be about nine inches in diameter; but the completed hill should nearly cover 
the space broken up by the hoe. 

The corn hills I planted well apart, because later, in hilling up, I would 
need room to draw earth from all directions over the roots to protect them 
from the sun, that they might not dry out. Com planted in hills too close 
together would have small ears and fewer of them; and the stalks of the 
plants would be weak, and often dried out. 

If the corn hills were so close together that the plants when they grew uji, 
touched each other, we called them "smell-each-other"; and we knew that 
the ears they bore would not be plump nor large. 

^4 Morning's Planting 

We Hidatsa women were early risers in the planting season; it was my 
habit to be up before sunrise, while the air was cool, for we thought this the 
best time for garden work. 

Having arrived at the field I would begin one hill, preparing it, as I 
have said, with my hoe; and so for ten rows each as long as from this spot 
to yonder fence — about thirty yards; the rows were about four feet apart, 
and the hills stood about the same distance apart in the row. 

The hills all prepared, I went back and planted them, patting down each 
with my palms, as described. Planting com thus by hand was slow work; 
but by ten o'clock the morning's work was done, and I was tired and ready 
to go home for my breakfast and rest; we did not eat before going into the 
field. The ten rows making the morning's planting contained about two 
hundred and twenty-five liills. 

I usually went to the field every morning in the planting season, if the 
weather was fine. Sometimes I went out again a little before sunset and 
planted; but this was not usual. 

Soaking the Seed 

The very last corn that we planted we sometimes put into a little tepid 
water, if the season was late. Seed used for replanting hills that had been 
destroyed by crows or magpies we also soaked. We left the seed in the 
water only a short time, when the water was poured off. 

The water should be tepid only, so that when poured through the 
fingers it felt hardly warmed. Hot water would kill the seeds. 

Seed corn thus soaked would have sprouts a tliird of an inch long witliin 
four or five days after planting, if the weather was warm. I know this, 
because we sometimes dug up some of the seeds to see. This soaked seed 



24 GILBERT LIVINGSTONE WILSON 

produced strong plants, but the first-planted, dry seeds still produced the 
first ripened ears. 

If warm water was not convenient, I sometimes put these last planted 
com seeds in my mouth ; and when well wetted, planted them. But these 
mouth-wetted seeds produced, we thought, a great many wi'da-aka'ta, or 
goose-upper-roof-of -mouth, ears. 

Planting for a Sick Woman 

It was usual for the women of a household to do their own planting; 
but if a woman was sick, or for some reason was unable to attend to her 
planting, she sometimes cooked a feast, to which she invited the members 
of her age society and asked them to plant her field for her. 

The members of her society would come upon an appointed day and 
plant her field in a short time; sometimes a half day was enough. 

There were about thirty members in my age society when I was a young 
woman. If we were invited to plant a garden for some sick woman, each 
member would take a row to plant; and each would strive to complete her 
row first. A member having completed her row, might begin a second, 
and even a third row; or if, when each had completed one row, there was 
but a small part of the field yet unplanted, all pitched in miscellaneously 
and finished the planting. 

Size of Our Biggest Field 

When our corn was in, we began planting beans and squashes. Beans 
we commonly planted between corn rows, sometimes over the whole field, 
more often over a part of it. Our bean and squash planting I will describe 
later; and I speak of it now only because I \vish to explain to you how a 
Hidatsa garden was laid out. 

The largest field ever owned in my father's family was the one which I 
have said my grandmother Turtle helped clear, at Like-a-fishhook village, 
or Fort Berthold, as the whites called it. The field, begim small, was 
added to each year and did not reach its maximum size for some years. 

The field was nearly rectangular in shape; at the time of its greatest 
size, its length was about equal to the distance from this spot to yonder 
fence — one hundred and eighty yards; and its width, to the distance from 
the comer of this cabin to yonder white post — ninety yards. 

The size of a garden was determined chiefly by the industry of the family 
that owned it, and by the number of mouths that must be fed. 

When I was six years old, there were, I think, ten in my father's family, 
of whom my two grandmothers, my mother and her three sisters, made six. 
I have said that my mother and her three sisters were wives of Small Ankle, 
my father. It was this year that my mother and Com Sucker died, however. 



AGRICULTURE OF THE HID ATS A INDIANS 25 

My father's wives and my two grandmothers, all industrious women, 
added each year to the area of our field; for our family was growing. At 
the time our garden reached its maximum size, there were seven boys in the 
family; three of these died young, but four grew up and brought wives to 
live in oiur earth lodge. 

Na'xu and Nu'cami 

In our big garden at Like-a-fishhook village, nine rows of corn, run- 
ning lengthwise with the field, made one na'xu, or Indian acre, as we usually 
si sf -sf 

c.c c c c c c c sq c c c 

b b / ■ b^ . b b . b b ' b ij .•■ 

c c c C C C C C S<J c c c 

b bb b b bb b b 

c c c ccc C c sq c c c 

■ b h ■ b b b / :h. ■■■ b : ■ v' b b ! 

c c • c c ccc c sq c c c 

Sq sq sq sq sq sq sq sq Sq sq sq Sq 

cc c c cc c.c c c c c 

;;-;b.;v'::'b.^;':-b .■>; b; .':>.: ;.b b b b :•: 

c'\-:'c'-.\-c.''/.c^ ..■ -.0 .•' .'.C; :■■.'€.■■;■: c; c c C \'-.C 

.: • b b'. ;b';:-. b' b b b • b b b b".- 

c ■ ccc.c c c c c c c c 

Figure 8 

translate it. There were ten of these na'xus, or Indian acres, in the garden. 

Some families of our village counted eight rows of corn to one na'xu, 
others counted ten rows. 

The rows of the na'xus always ran the length of the garden; and if the 
field curved, as it sometimes did around a bend of the river, or other irregu- 
larity, the rows curved with it. 

In our garden a row of squashes separated each na'xu from its neighbor. 

Four rows of com running widthwise with the garden made one nu'cami ; 
and as was the na'xu, each nu'cami was separated from its neighbor by a 
row of squashes, or beans, or in some families, even by sunflowers. 

Like those of the na'xus, the rows of the nu'camis often curved to follow 
some irregularity in the shape of the garden plot. (See figure 8.) 



26 GILBERT LIVINGSTONE WILSON 

Hoeing 

Hoeing time began when the corn was about three inches high ; but this 
varied somewhat with the season. Some seasons were warm, and the corn 
and weeds grew rapidly; other seasons were colder, and delayed the growth 
of the corn. 

Corn plants about three inches high we called "young-bird's-feather- 
tail-com," because the plants then had blunt ends, like the tail feathers of 
a very young bird. 

Corn and weeds alike grew rapidly now, and we women of the house- 
hold were out with our hoes daily, to keep ahead of the weeds. We worked 
as in planting season, in the early morning hours. 

I cultivated each hill carefully with my hoe as I came to it; and if the 
plants were small, I would comb the soil of the hill lightly with my fingers, 
loosening the earth and tearing out young weeds. 

We did not hoe the corn alone, but went right through the garden, corn, 
squashes, beans, and all. Weeds were let lie on the ground, as they were 
now young and harmless. 

We hoed but once, not very m.any weeds coming up to bother us after- 
wards. In my girlhood we were not troubled with mustard and thistles; 
these weeds have come in with while men. 

In many families hoeing ended, I think, when the com was about seven 
or eight inches liigh: but I remember when my mothers finished hoeing 
their big field at Like-a-fishhook village, the corn was about eighteen inches 
high, and the blcsscms at the top of the plants were appearing. 

A second hoeing began, it is true, when the corn silk appeared, but was 
accompanied by hilling, so that we looked upon it rather as a hilHng time. 
Hilling was done to firm the plants against the wind and cover the roots 
from the sun. We hilled with earth, abovit four inches up around the roots 
of the corn. 

Not a great many weeds were found in the garden at hilling time, unless 
the season had been wet; but weeds at this season are apt to have seeds, 
so that it was my habit to bear such weeds off the field, that the seeds might 
not fall and sprout the next season. 

With the corn, the squashes and beans were also hilled; but this was an 
easier task. The bean hills, especially, were made small at the first, and 
hilling them up afterwards was not hard work. If beans were hilled too 
high the vines got beaten down into the mud by the rains and rotted. 

The Watchers' Stage 

Our com fields had many eneinies. Magpies, and especially crows, 
pulled up much of the young corn, so that we had to replant many hills. 
Crows were fond of pulling up the green shoots when they were a half inch 



AGRICULTURE OF THE HIDATSA INDIANS IT 

or an inch high. Spotted gophers would dig up the seed from the roots of 
young plants. When the corn had eared, and the grains were still soft, 
blackbirds and crows were destructive. 

Any hills of young corn that the birds destroyed, I replanted if the sea- 
son was not too late. If only a part of the plants in a hill had been de- 
stroyed, I did not disturb the living plants, but replanted only the destroyed 
ones. In the place of each missing plant, I dug a little hole with my hand, 
and dropped in a seed. 

We made scarecrows'^ to frighten the crows. Two sticks were driven 
into the ground for legs; to these were bound two other sticks, hke out- 
stretched arms; on the top was fastened a ball of cast-away skins, or the 
like, for a head. An old buffalo robe was drawn over the figure and a belt 
tied around its middle, to make it look like a man. Such a scarecrow 
would keep the crows away for a few days but when they saw that the 
figure never moved from its place, they lost their fear and returned. 

A platform, or stage, was often built in a garden, where the girls and 
young women of the household came to sit and sing as they watched that 
crows and other thieves did not destroy the ripening crop. We cared for 
our com in those days as we would care for a cliild; for we Indian people 
loved our gardens, just as a mother loves her children; and we thought 
that our growing com liked to hear us sing, just as children like to hear their 
mother sing to them.' Also, we did not want the birds to come and steal 
our corn. Horses, too, might break in and crop the plants, or boys might 
steal the green ears and go off and roast them. 

' "Twice in the corn season were scarecrows used; first, when the corn was just cominy up; and attain 
when the grain was forming on the ear and getting ripe." — Edward Goodbird 

= In August, 1910, BuSalobird-woman related the story of "The Grandson," in the course of whirh 
she said in explanation of reference to a watchers' stage: 

"I will now stop a moment to explain something in the other form of this tale. 

"According to this way of telling it, there was a garden and in the middle of the garden was a tree. 
There was a platform under the tree made of trunks and slabs; and there those two girls sat to watch the 
garden and sing watch-garden songs. They did this to make the garden grow, just as people sing to a baby 
to make it be quiet and feel good. In old times we sang to a garden for a like reason, to make the garden 
feel good and grow. This custom was one used in every garden. Sometimes one or two women sang. 

"The singing was begun in the spring and continued until the corn was ripe. We Indians loved our 
gardens and kept them clean; we did not let weeds grow in them. Always in every garden during the 
growing season, there would be some one working or singing. 

"Now in old times, many of our gardens had resting stages, or watchers' stages, such as I have just 
described. We always made our gardens down in the woods by the river, because there is better ground 
there. When we cut off the timber we would often leave one tree standing in the garden. Under this tree 
were erected four forked posts, on which was laid a platform. This made the stage; in the tree overhead we 
often spread robes and blankets for shade. 

"This resting stage was small. It was just big enough for two persons to sit on comfortably. Corn 
was never dried on it; it was used for a singing and resting place only. It was reached by a ladder. Its 
height was about four and a half feet high. 

"This resting stage or watchers' stage was built on the north side of the tree so that the shade of the 
tree would fall upon it. Robes were laid on the floor of the stage to make a couch or bed. Sometimes- 
people even slept on this platform — sometimes a man and his wife slept there. 

"This resting stage we used to rest on after working in the garden; and to sing here the songs that we 
sang at this season of the year, and which I have called watch-garden songs. A place to cook in was nut 



28 GILBERT LIVINGSTONE WILSON 

Oiir Hidatsa name for such a stage was advikati' i'kakg-ma'tsati, or 
field watchers' stage; from adukati', field; i'kakS, watch; and ma'tsati, 
stage. These stages, while common, were not in every garden. I had one 
in my garden where I used to sit and sing. 

A watchers' stage resembled a stage for drying grain, but it was bviilt 
more simply. Four posts, forked at the top, supported two parallel beams, 
or stringers; on these beams was laid a floor of puncheons, or split small 
logs, at about the height of the full grown com. This floor was about the 
length and breadth of Wolf Chief's table — forty-three by thirty-five inches — 
and was thus large enough to permit two persons to sit together. A ladder 
made of the trunk of a tree rested against the stage. 

Such stages we did not value as we did our drying stages, nor did we use 
so much care in building them. If the posts were of green wood, we did 
not trouble to peel off the bark; at least, I never saw such posts with the 
bark peeled off. The beams in the forks of the posts often lay with the 
bark on. The puncheons that made the floor of the stage were free of bark, 
because they were commonly split from old, dead, floating logs, that we 
got down at the Missoiu-i River; if the whole stage was bmlt of these dead 
logs, as was often done, the bark would be wanting on every beam. 

A watchers' stage, indeed, was usually of rather rough construction; 
wood was plentiful and easy to get, and the stage was rebuilt each year. 

As I have said, it was our custom to locate oiu- gardens on the timbered, 
bottom lands, and when we cleared off the timber and brush, we often left 
a tree, usually of cottonwood, standing in the field, to shade the watchers' 
stage. The stage stood on the north, or shady, side of the tree. 

Cottonwood seedlings were apt to spring up in newly cleared ground. 
If there was no tree in the field, one of these seedlings might be let grow into 
a small tree. Cottonwoods grew very rapidly. 

The tree that shaded the watchers' stage in our fairdly field, and which 
I have indicated on the map, was about as high as my son Goodbird's 
cabin, and had a trunk about foiu* inches in diameter. The cottonwood 
tree standing in Wolf Chief's corn field this present summer, is perhaps 
about the height of the trees that used to stand in our fields at Like-a-fish- 
hook village. 

Explanation of Sketch of Watchers' Stage 

My son Goodbird has made a sketch, under my direction, of a watchers' 
stage (figure 9). 

far away on the edge of the garden. It was a kind of booth, or bower. With a stake we made 
holes in the ground in a circle, and into the holes thrust willows. The tops of these willows we bent toward 
the center and joined together to make a bower. Over the top we threw a robe. We built a fire beneath 
to cook by. 

"Our gardens I am describing were those at Like-a-fishhook village; and they were on the Missouri on 
either side of the village. They were strung along the river bank for a mile or more on either side of the 
village." 



AGRICULTURE OF THE III PATS A INDIANS 



29 



The stage was placed close to the tree shading it, about a foot from the 
trank. Holes for the posts were dug with a long digging stick; and the 
posts were set firm, like fence posts. 

The stage was made nearly square, so that the watchers could sit facing 
any side with equal ease. The beams supporting the floor might be laid 
east and west, or north and south; but as the tree stood always on the south 
side of the stage, the floor beams lay always in one of these two ways. 




Figure 9 
Redrawn from sketch by Edward Goodbird. 

In the sketch a skin* is seen lying on the stage floor. This is a buffalo 
calf skin, folded fur out, to make a seat for the watcher. The skin might 
be folded tail to head, or side to side; and sometimes it was folded flesh side 
out. It never hung down over the edges of the stage floor, but was folded 
up neatly to make a kind of cushion. The puncheon floor, at best never 
very smooth, was rather hard to sit upon; and letting a part of the skin 
hang down over the side would have been waste of good cushion material. 



* In redrawing Goodbird's sketch this calf-skin has been omitted, that the construction of the stage 
floor might be shown. 



30 GILBERT LIVINGSTONE WILSON 

The three poles on the right of the stage support another calf skin, 
used as a shield against the sun. The poles merely rested on the ground; 
they were not thrust into the soil. They could be shifted about with the 
sun, so that the watcher had shade in any part of the day. 

The calf skin used for a sun shade hung on the poles head downward; 
whether it lay fur or flesh side down did not matter. 

Skins dressed by Indians have holes cut along the edges for the wooden 
pins by which they are staked out on the ground to dry. The poles up- 
holding the skin shade we cut of willows; and we were careful to trim off 
the branches, leaving little stubs sticking out on the trunk of the pole. 
These little stubs we slipped through some of the holes in the edge of the 
skin shade to uphold it and stay it in place. It was not necessary to bind 
the sldn down with thongs; just slipping the stubs through the holes was 
enough. 

Poles for a sun shade were cut indifferently of dry or green wood; and 
they lasted the entire season. 

The ladder by which we mounted a watchers' stage rested against either 
of the comers next the tree, against one of the two beams supporting the 
floor; however we did not consider a watchers' stage to be sacred, and we 
placed the ladder anywhere it might be convenient. 

The ladder was a cottonwood trunk, cut with three steps; more were 
not needed, as the stage floor was not liigh. 

Sweet Grass's Stin Shade 

If the tree sheltering a stage had scant foliage, we often cut thick, leafy 
cottonwood boughs and thrust them horizontally through the branches of 
the tree to increase its shade. It was a common thing for the watchers to 
tie a robe across the face of the tree for the same purpose. 

If no tree grew in the garden, a small cottonwood with thick, leafy 
branches was cut and propped against the south or sunny side of the stage. 

There was an old woman named Sweet Grass who had no tree in her 
garden. She built a stage just like that in Goodbird's sketch (figure 9). 
To shade it I remember she cut several small cottonwood trees and set 
them in holes made with her digging stick, along the south side of her stage. 
They stood there in a row and shaded the stage quite effectively. Her 
stage stood rather close to the edge of her garden. 

The Watchers 

The season for watching the fields began early in August when green 
com began to come in; for this was the time when the ripening ears were 
apt to be stolen by horses, or birds, or boys. We did not watch the fields 
in the spring and early summer, to keep the crows from pulling up the newly 



AGRICULTURE OF THE IIIDATSA INDIANS 31 

sprouted grain; such damage we were content to repair by replanting. 

Girls began to go on the watchers' stage to watch the com and sing, 
when they were about ten or twelve years of age. They continued the 
custom even after they had grown up and married; and old women, working 
in the garden and stopping to rest, often went on the stage and sang. 

Two girls usually watched and sang together. The village gardens 
were laid out close to one another; and a girl of one family would be joined 
by the girl of the family who owned the garden adjoining. Sometimes 
three, or even four, girls got on the stage and sang together; but never more 
than four. A drum was not used to accompany the singing. 

The watchers sometimes rose and stood upon the stage as they looked 
to see if any boys or horses were in the field, stealing corn. Older girls 
and young married women, and even old women, often worked at porcu- 
pine embroidery as they watched. Very young girls did not embroider. 

Boys of nine to eleven years of age were sometimes rather troublesome 
thieves. They were fond of stealing green cars to roast by a fire in the 
woods. Sometimes — not every day, however — we had to guard our corn 
alertly. A boy caught stealing was merely scolded. "You must not steal 
here again!" we would say to him. His parents were not asked to pay 
damage for the theft. 

We went to the watchers' stage quite early in the day, before sunrise, 
or near it, and we came home at sunset. 

The watching season continued until the corn was all gathered and 
harvested. My grandmother, Turtle, was a familiar figure in our family's 
field, in this season. I can remember her staying out in the field daily, 
picking out the ripening ears and braiding them in a string. 

BootJis 

There were a good many booths in the gardens that lay west of the vil- 
lage. Usually a booth stood at one side of every field in which was a 
watchers' stage. 

To make a booth, we cut diamond willows, stood them in the ground in a 
circle, and bending over the leafy tops, tied them together. A few leafy 
branches were interwoven into the top to increase the shade; but there was 
no further co\'ering. 

A booth had a floor diameter of nine or ten feet, and was as high as I 
can conveniently reach with my hands — six feet. 

The girls who sang and watched the ripening corn cooked in these booths. 
I often did so when I was a young girl; for cooking at the booth was done 
by all the watchers, even young girls of ten or twelve years. I have often 
seen my grandmother. Turtle, also, in her booth very early in the morning, 
in the corn season. 



32 GILBERT LIVINGSTONE WILSON 

Eating Customs 

A meal was eaten sometimes just after simrise, or a little later; but we 
never had regular meal hours in the field. We cooked and ate whenever 
we got hungry, or when visitors came; or we strayed over to other gardens 
and ate with our friends. If relatives came, the watchers often enter- 
tained them by giving them something to eat. 

To cook the meal a fire was made in the booth. Meat had been brought 
out from the village, dried or fresh buffalo meat usually. Fresh meat was 
laid on the coals to broil; dried meat was thrust on the end of a stick that 
leaned over the coals ; and when one side was well toasted it was turned over. 

Fresh squashes we boiled in clay or iron pots; a good many brass or 
copper kettles also were in use when I was young. We were fond of squashes. 

A common dish was green com and beans. The com was shelled ofjf the 
cob and boiled with green beans that were shelled also ; sometimes the beans 
were boiled in the pod. 




Figure 10 

Redrawn from sketch by Goodbird of specimen made by 

Buffalobird- woman. 

To serve the corn and beans we poured the mess into a wooden bowl 
and ate with spoons made from the stems of squash "leaves. Figure 10 
is a sketch of such a spoon. The squash stem was split at one end and 
the split was held open by a little stick. Stems of leaves of our native 
squashes have tiny prickles on them, but these did not hurt the eater's lips. 
Leaf stems of native squashes I think are firmer and stronger than those of 
white men's squashes, such as we now raise. 

My grandmother, Ttirtle, was a faithful watcher in our family field in 
the watching season. I remember she used to bring home in the evening 
all the uneaten corn she had boiled that day. 



AGRICULTURE OF THE HWATSA INDIANS 33 

Youths' and Maidens' Customs 

Wc always kept drinking water at the stage; and if relatives came out, 
we freely gave them to drink. But boys and young men who came were 
offered neither food nor drink, unless they were relatives. 

Our tribe's custom in such things was well understood. 

The youths of the village used to go about all the time seeking the girls; 
this indeed was almost all they did. Of course, when the girls were on the 
watchers' stage the boys were pretty sure to come around. Sometimes two 
youths came together, sometimes but one. If there were relatives at the 
watchers' stage the boys would stop and drink or eat; they did not try to 
talk to the girls, biit would come around smiling and try to get the girls to 
smile back. 

To illustrate our custom, if a boy came out to a watchers' stage, we girls 
that were sitting upon it did not say a word to him. It was our rule that 
we should work and should not say anything to him. So we sat, not look- 
ing at him, nor saying a word. He would smile and perhaps stop and get 
a drink of water. 

Indeed, a girl that was not a youth's sweetheart, never talked to him. 
This rule was observed at all times. Even when a boy was a girl's sweet- 
heart, or "love-boy" as we called him, if there were other persons around, she 
did not talk to him, imless these happened to be relatives. 

Boys who came out to the watchers' stage, getting no encouragement 
from the girls there, soon went away. 

A very young girl was not permitted to go to the watchers' stage unless 
an old woman went along to take care of her. In olden days, mothers 
watched their daughters very carefully. 

Watchers' Songs 

Most of the songs that were sung on the watchers' stage were love songs, 
but not all. 

One that little girls were fond of singing — girls that is of about twelve 
years of age — was as follows : 

You bad boys, you are all alike ! 

Your bow is like a bent basket hoop ; 

You poor boys, you have to run on the prairie barefoot ; 

Your arrows are fit for nothing but to shoot up into the sky ! 

This song was sung for the benefit of the boys who came to the near-by 
woods to hunt birds. 



34 GILBERT LIVINGSTONE WILSON 

Here is another song; but that you may understand it I shall first have 
to explain to you what ikupa' means. 

A girl whom another girl loves as her own sister, we call her ikupa'. I 
think your word chum, as you explain it, has about the same meaning. 
This is the song: 

"My ikupa', what do you wish to see?" you said to me. 
What I wish to see is the corn silk coming out on the growing ear ; 
But what you wish to see is that naughty young man coming ! 

Here is a song that we sang to tease young men that were going by: 

You young man of the Dog society, you said to me, 
"When I go to the east on a war party, you will hear news of me how 
brave I am!" 
I have heard news of you; 
When the fight was on, you ran and liid ! 
And jrou think you are a brave young man! 
Behold you have joined the Dog society; 
Therefore, I call you just plain dog! 

These songs from the watchers' stage we called ini'daxika, or gardeners' 
songs. The words of these I have just given you we called love-boy words; 
and they were intended to tease. 

There was another class of songs sung from the watchers' stage that did 
not have love-boy words. I will give you one of these, but to make it in- 
telligible, I must first explain a custom of my tribe. 

Clan Cousins' Custom 

Let us suppose that a woman of the Tsi'stska Doxpa'ka marries a man 
of the Midipa'di clan. Their child will be a Tsi'stska; for we Hidatsas 
reckon every child to belong to the clan of his mother; and the members 
of the mother's clan will be clan sisters and clan brothers to her child. 

Another woman of the tribe, of what clan does not matter, also marri 
a Midipa'di husband; and they have a child. The child of the first mother 
and the child of the second we reckon as makutsati, or clan cousins, since 
their fathers being of the same clan, arc clan brothers. 

In old times these clan cousins had a custom of teasing one another; 
especially was this teasing common between young men and young women. 
For example, a young man, unlucky in war, might be passing the gardens 
and hear some mischievous girl, his clan cousin, singing a song taunting 
liim for his ill success. From any one else this would be taken for the 
deepest insult; but seeing that the singer was his clan cousin, the young 
man only called out good humoredly, "Sing louder, cousin!" 

I can best explain this custom by telling you a story. 



AGRICULTURE OF THE HIDATSA IXDIAXS 35 

Story of Snake-hcad-oryiament 

A long time ago, in one of our villages at Knife River, there lived a man 
Mapuksao'kihcc, or Snake-head-ornamcnt. He was a great medicine 
man; and in his earth lodge he kept a bull snake, whom he called "father." 

When Snake-head-oniament started to go to a feast he would say to 
the bull snake, "Come, father, let us go and get something to cat'" 

The snake would crawl up the man's bodj^ coil about his neck and 
thrust his head forward over the man's crown and forehead; or he would 
coil about the man's head like the head cloth a hunter used to wear, with 
his head thrust forward as I have said. 

Bearing the snake thus on his head, Snake-hcad-ornament would enter 
some man's lodge and sit down to cat. The snake however never ate with 
him, for his food was not the same as the man's; the bull snake's food was 
hide scrapings which the women of the lodge fed to him. 

When Snake-head-ornament came home again he would sa}' to the bull 
snake, "Father, get off." 

The snake would creep down from the mail's head, but before he entered 
his hole he would roll liimself about on the earth lodge floor. Snake-head- 
ornament would say to him, "What are you doing? Do you think I am 
bad smelling, and do you want to wash off the smell from your bod}'"' It 
is you who are bad smelling; yet I do not despise youV 

The snake, hearing this, would creep into liis hole as if ashamed. 

Snake-head-omament made up a war party and led it against enemies 
on the Yellowstone River. The party not only failed to kill any of the 
enemy, but lost three of their own men. This was a kind of disgrace to 
Snake-head-omament: for as leader of the war party he was responsible 
for it. He thought his gods had deserted him; and when he came home he 
went about crying and mourning and calling upon his gods to give him 
another vision. He was a brave man and had many honor marks; and his 
ill success made his heart sore. 

In old times, when one mourned, either man or woman, he cut oK his 
hair, painted his body with white clay and went without moccasins; he 
also cut himself with some sharp instrument. 

In those days also, when a man went out to seek his god, he went' away 
from the village, alone, into the hills; and thus it happened that Snake- 
head-omament, on his way to the hills, went mourning and crying past a 
garden where sat a woman, his clan cousin, on her watchers' stage. Seeing 
him, she began to sing a song to tease him: 

He said, "I am a young bird!" 

If a yomig bird, he should be in a nest ; 

But he comes around here looking gray, 

And wanders aimlesslv evervwhere outside the \-iilage ! 



36 GILBERT LIVINGSTONE WILSON 

He said, "I am a young snake!" 

If a young snake, he should stay in the hills among the red buttcs; 

But he comes around here looking gray and crying. 

And wanders aimlessly everywhere ! 

When the woman sang, "he comes around here looking gray," she meant 
that the man was gray from the white clay paint on his body. 

Snake-head-omament heard her song, but knowing she was his clan 
cousin, cried out to her : 

"My elder sister, sing louder! You arc right; let my fathers hear what 
you say. I do not know whether they will feel shame or not; but the snake 
and the white eagle both called me 'son' !" 

What he meant was that the snake and the white eagle were his dream 
gods; and that they had both called him "son," in a vision. In her song the 
woman had taunted him with this. If she had been any one but his clan 
cousin, he would have been beside himself with anger. As it was, he kept 
his good humor, and did her no hurt. 

But the woman had sung her song for a cause. Years before, when 
Snake-head-ornament was quite a young man and as yet had won few honors 
he went on a war party and killed a Sioux woman. When he came home 
he was looked upon as a successful warrior; and he was, of course, proud that 
people now looked up to him. Not long after this, he joined the Black 
Mouth society. It happened, one day, that the women were erecting pali- 
sades aroxmd the village to defend it, and Snake-head-omament, as a mem- 
ber of the Black Mouths, was one of those overseeing the work. This 
woman, his clan cousin, was rather slow at her task and did not move about 
very briskly. Snake-head-omament, seeing this, approached her and fired 
off his gun close by her legs. She looked around, but seeing that it was 
Snake-head-omament that had shot, and knowing he was her clan cousin, 
she did not get angry. Just the same she did not forget; and years after 
she had a good humored revenge in the taunting song I have given you. 

Green Corn and Its Uses 

The Ripening Ears 

The first corn was ready to be eaten green early in the harvest moon, 
when the blossoms of the prairie golden rod are all in full, bright yellow; or 
about the end of the first week in August. We ate much green corn, boiling 
the fresh ears in a pot as white people do; but every Hidatsa family also 
put up dried green com for winter. This took the place with us of the 
canned green com we now buy at the trader's store. 

I knew when the com ears were ripe enough for boiling from these signs: 
The blossoms on the top of the stalk were turned brown, the silk on the end 



AGRICULTURE OF THE UIDATSA INDIANS 37 

of the ear was dry, and the husks on the ear were of a dark green color. 
I do not tliink the younger Indians on this reservation are as good agri- 
culturists as we older members of my tribe were when we were young. I 
sometimes say to my son Goodbird; "You young folks, when you want 
green corn, open the husk to see if the grain is ripe enough, and thus expose 
it ; but I just go out into the field and pluck the ear. When you open an 
ear and find it too green to pluck, you let it stand on the stalk; and birds 
then come and eat the exposed kernels, or little brown ants chmb up the 
stalk and eat the ear and spoil it. I do not think you are very good garden- 
ers in these days. In old times, when we went out to gather green ears, we 
did not have to open their faces to see if the grain was ripe enough to be 
plucked!" 

Second Planting for Green Corn 

Our green com season lasted about ten days, when the grain, though 
not yet ripe, became too hard for boiling green. 

To provide green com to be eaten late in the season, we used to make a 
second planting of com when June berries were ripe; and for this purpose 
we left a space, not very large, vacant in the field. In my father's family 
this second planting was of about twenty-eight hills of corn. It came 
ready to eat when the other corn was getting hard; but it often got cavight 
by the frost. Nearly every garden owner made such a second planting; 
it was, indeed, a usual practice in the tribe. 

Cooking Fresh Green Corn 

Our usual way of cooking fresh, green com, was to boil it in a kettle 
on the cob. 

Fresh, green com, shelled from the cob, was often put in a corn mortar 
and pounded; and then boiled without fats or meat. Prepared thus, it 
had a sweet taste and smell; much like that of the canned corn we buy of 
the traders. 

Shelled green com, in the whole grain, was also boiled fresh, mixed with 
beans and fats. 

Roasting Ears 

Green ears were sometimes roasted, usually by an individual member 
of the family who wanted a Uttle change of diet. The women of my father's 
family never prepared a full meal of roasted ears that I remember; if any 
one wanted roasted, fresh, green com, he prepared it himself. 

When I wanted to roast green com I made a fire of cottonwood and pre- 
pared a bed of coals. I laid the fresh ear on the coals with the husk re- 
moved. As the com roasted, I rolled the ear gently to and fro over the 
coals. When properly cooked I removed the ear and laid on another. 



38 GILBERT LIVINGSTONE WILSON 

As the ear roasted, the green kernels would pop sometimes with 
quite a sharp sound. If this popping noise was very loud, we would laugh 
and say to the one roasting the ear, "Ah, we see you have stolen that ear 
from some other family's garden!" 

Green com was regularly taken o\xt of the garden to roast until frost 
came, when it lost its fragrance and fresh taste. To restore its freshness, 
we would take the green com silk of the same plucked car and rub the silk 
well into the kernels of the ear as they stood in the cola. This measurably 
restored the fresh taste and smell. 

We did not do this if the car was to be boiled, only if we intended to 
roast it. 

For green corn, boiled and eaten fresh, we used all varieties except the 
gummy; for when green they tasted alike. But for roasting ears we thought 
the two yellow varieties, hard and soft, were the best. 

Mdtu'a-la'kapa 

A common dish made from green corn was miUu'a-la'kapa, from 
matu'a, green corn; and la'kapa, mush, or something mushy; thus, wheat 
flour inixed with water to a thick paste we call la'kapa, even if unboiled. 

Ripening green com, with the grain still soft, was shelled off the cob with 
the tip of the thumb or with the thumb nail. The shelled com was pounded 
in a mortar and boiled with beans; it was flavored with spring salt. 

Corn Bread 

We also made a kind of com bread from green corn. 

Green ears were plucked and the corn shelled off with the thumb nail, 
so as not to break open the kemels. Boiled green com could be shelled 
with a mussel shell because boiling toughened the kernels; but unboiled 
green com was shelled with the thumb nail. 

Two or three women often worked at shelling the corn as it was rather 
tedious work. 

When enotigh of the com had been shelled, it was put in a corn mortar 
and pounded. 

Some of the ears were natiu-ally longer than others: a number of these 
had been selected and their husks removed. Some of these husks were 
now laid down side by side, but overlapping like shingles, until a sheet was 
made about ten inches wide. 

Another row of husks was laid over the first, transversely to them; and 
so until four or five layers of the green husks were made, each lying trans- 
versely to the layer of husks beneath. 

The shelled com, pounded almost to a pulp, was poured out on this 
husk sheet, and patted down with the hand to a loaf about seven or eight 



AGRICULTURE OF THE HIDATSA IXDIANS 39 

inches square, and an inch or two tliick. However, this varied; a .i;irl 
would make a much smaller loaf than would a woman preparing a mess for 
her family. 

The ends of the uppermost layer of husks were now folded over the top 
of the loaf, leaf by leaf; then the next layer of husks beneath; and so until 
the ends of all the husks were folded over the top of the loaf, quite hiding it. 

Two or three husk leaves had been split into strips half an inch to three 
quarters of an inch in width . These strips were tied together to make bands 
to bind the loaf. Three bands passed around the loaf each way, or six 
bands in all. 

No grease nor fat, nor any seasoning, had been added to the loaf; the 
poimdcd green corn pulp was all that entered into it. 

The loaf made, now came the baking. The ashes in the fire place in an 
earth lodge lay quite deep. A cavity was dug into these ashes about as 
deep as my hand is long. Into the bottom of this ca\Tity live coals and hot 
ashes were raked, and upon these the loaf was laid; a few ashes were raked 
over the top, and upon these ashes live coals were heaped. The loaf liakcd 
in about two hours. 

We called this loaf naktsi', or buried-in-ashcs-and-bakcd. Soft white 
and soft yellow com were good A\arieties from which to make this buricd- 
and-baked com, as we called it. 

Drying Green Corn for Winter 

Every Hidatsa family i)ut up a store of dried green com for winter. 
This is the way in which I prepared my family's store. 

In the proper season I went out into our garden and broke off the ears 
that I found, that were of a dark green outside. Sometimes I even broke 
open the husks to see if the ear was just right; but this was seldom, as I 
could tell very well by the color and other signs I have described. I went 
all over the garden, plucking the dark green ears, and putting them in a 
pile in some convenient spot on the cultivated ground. If I was close 
enough I tossed each ear upon the pile as I plucked it ; but as I drew further 
away, I gathered the ears into my basket and bore them to the pile. 

I left ofl" plucking when the pile contained five basketfuls if I was work- 
ing alone. If two of us were working we plucked about ten basketfuls. 

Green corn for drying was always plucked in the evening, just before 
sunset; and the newly plucked ears were let lie in the pile all night, in the 
open air. The com was not brought home on the evening of the plucking, 
because if kept in the earth lodge over night it would not taste so fresh and 
sweet, we thought. 

The next morning before breakfast, I went out to the field and fetched the 
corn to our lodge in the village. As I brought the baskets into the lodge. 



40 



GILBERT LIVINGSTONE WILSON 



I cinptied Ihcm in a pile at the place marked B in figure 11, laear the fire. 
Sitting at A, I now began husking, breaking off the husks from each ear 
in three strokes, thus: With my hand I drew back half the husk; second, 
I drew back the other half; third, I broke the husk from the cob. The 
husks I put in a pile, E, to one side. No husking pegs were used, such 
as you describe to me; I could husk quite rapidlj^ with my bare hands. 

As the ears were stripped, they were laid in a pile upon some of the 
discarded husks, spread for that purpose. The freshly husked ears made 
a pretty sight; some of them were big, fine ones, and all had plump, shiny 

kernels. A tweh^e-row ear we thought 
a big one ; a few very big ears had four- 
teen rows of kernels ; smaller ears had 
not more than eight rows. 

Two kettles, meanwhile, had been 
prepared. One marked D in figure 11, 
was set upon coals in the fireplace ; the 
other, C, was suspended over the fire 
by a chain attached to the drying pole. 
The kettles held water, wliich was now 
lirought to a boil. 

When enough corn was husked to 
fill one of these kettles, I gathered up 
the ears and dropped them in the boil- 
ing water. I watched the corn care- 
fully, and when it was about half 
cooked, I lifted the ears out with a 
mountain sheep horn spoon and laid them on a pile of husks. 

When all the corn was cooked, I loaded the ears in my basket and bore 
them out upon the drying stage, where I laid them in rows, side by side, 
upon the stage floor. There I left them to dry over night. 

The work of bringing in the five basketfuls of corn from the field and 
lioiling the ears took all day, until evening. 

In the morning the corn was brought into the lodge again. A skin tent 
cover had been spread on the floor and the half boiled ears were laid on it, 
in a pile. I now sat on the floor, as an Indian woman sits, with ankles to 
the right, and with the edge of the tent cover drawn over my knees, I took 
an ear of the half boiled corn in my left hand, holding it with the greater 
end toward me. I had a small, pointed stick; and this I ran, point for- 
ward, down between two rows of kernels, thus loosening the grains. The 
right hand row of the two rows of loosened kernels I now shelled oft' with 
my right thumb. I then shelled off all the other rows of kernels, one row at 
a lime, working toward the left, and rolling the cob over toward the right 
as I did so. 




Figure 11 



AGRICULTURE OF THE HI DATS A INDIANS 41 

There was another way of shelling half boiled corn. As before, I 
would run a sharpened stick down two rows of kernels, loosening the grains ; 
and I would then shell them oflE with smart, quick strokes of a mussel shell 
held in my right hand. We still shell half boiled com in this way, using 
large spoons instead of shells. There were very few metal spoons in use 
in my tribe when I was a girl; mussel shells were used instead for most 
purposes. 

If while I was shelling the coni, a girl or woman came into the lodge to 
visit, she would sit down and lend a hand while we chatted; thus the shelling 
was soon done. 

The shelling finished, I took an old tent cover and spread it on the floor 
of the drying stage outside. On this cover I spread the shelled corn to dry, 
carrying it up on the stage in my basket. 

At night I covered the drying corn with old tent skins to protect it 
from dampness. 

The com dried in about four days. 

When the corn was well dried, I winnowed it. This I sometimes did 
on the floor of the drying stage, sometimes on the ground. 

Having chosen a day when a slight wind was blowing, I filled a wooden 
bowl from the dried com that lay heaped on the tent cover; and holding 
the bowl aloft I let the grain pour slowly from it, that any chaff might be 
winnowed out. 

The corn was now ready to be put in sacks for winter. 

Com thus prepared we called maada'ckihc, from ada'ckihe, treated-by- 
fire-but-not-cooked, a word also used to designate food that has been pre- 
pared by smoking. 

All varieties of com could be prepared in this way.^ 

The Arikaras on this reservation have a different way of preparing and 
drying green corn. They make a big heap of dried willows, and upon these 
lay the ears, green and freshly plucked, in the husk. When all is read}', 
they set fire to the wiUows, thus roasting the com; and they often roast a 
great pile of com at one time, in this way. The roasted ears are husked and 
shelled, and the grain dried, for storing. Com that has been roasted in the 
Ankara way, dries much more quickly than that prepared by boiling. 

Of late years some Mandan and Hidatsa families occasionally roast 
their com in imitation of the Ankara way; but I never saw this done in my 
yo\ith. 

I do not like to eat food made of this dried, roasted com; it is dirty! 

» "My wife is drying half-boiled corn on the ear this year. This way we find makes the dried corn 
sweeter, but takes longer to dry it. We cook it in winter by dropping the ear, cob and all, into the pot. 
This method of drying corn was known also in old times." — Edward Goodbird 



42 GILBERT LIVINGSTONE WILSON . 

Mape'di (Corn Smut) 
Mapc'dt 

Mape'di is a black mass that grows in the husk of an car of com; it is 
what you say white men call com smut fungus. Sometimes an ear of 
com appears very plump, or somewhat swelled; and when the husk is 
opened, there is no com inside, only mape'di, or smut ; or sometimes part of 
the ear will be foimd with a little grain at one end, and mape'di at the other. 
These masses of mape'di, or com smut, that we found growing on the ear, 
we gathered and dried for food. 

There is another mape'di that grows on the stalk of the corn. It is 
not good to eat, and was not gathered up at the harvest time. The mape'di 
that grows on the stalk is commonly found at a place where the stalk, bj- 
some accident, has been half broken. 

We looked upon the mape'di that grew on the com car as a kind of com, 
because it was borne on the cob ; it was found on the ears the grain of which 
was growing solid, or was about ready to be eaten as green com. We did 
not find many mape'di masses in one garden. 

Harvest and Uses 

We gathered the black masses and half boiled and dried them, still on 
the cob. When well dried, they were broken off the cob. These broken 
off pieces we mixed with the dried half boiled green corn, and stored in the 
same sack with them. 

Mape'di was cooked by boiling with the half-boiled dried com. We 
did not eat mape'di fresh from the garden, nor did we cook it separately. 
Mape'di, boiled with com, tasted good, not sweet, and not sovu-. 

I still follow the custom of my tribe and gather mape'di each year at 
the com harvest. 

The Ripe Corn Harvest 

Huski)ig 

As the corn in the fields began to show signs of ripening, the people of 
Like-a-fislihook village went hunting to get meat for the husking feasts. 
This meat was usually dried; but if a kill was made late in the season, the 
ineat was sometimes brought in fresh. 

When the com was fully ripened, the owners of a garden went out with 
baskets, plucked the ears from the stalks and piled them in a heap ready 
for the husking. The empty stalks were left standing in the field. 

A small family sometimes took as many as three days to gather and 
husk their ripe com; this was because there were not many persons in the 
family to do the work. 



AGRICULTURE OF THE IIIDATSA IXDIAXS 43 

In a big family, like my father's, harvesting was more speedily done. 
We had a large garden, but wo never spent more than one day gathering 
up the com, which we piled in a heap in the :niddle of the field. 

The next day after the corn was plucked, we gave a husking feast. We 
took out into the field a great deal of dried meat that my mothers had al- 
ready cooked in the lodge; or we took the dried meat into the field and 
boiled it in a kettle near the com pile. We also boiled com on a fire near 
by. The meat and com were for the feast. 

Instead of dried meat, a family sometimes took out a side of fresh 
buffalo meat and roasted it over a fire, near the com pile. 

Having then amved at the field, and started a fire for the feast, all of 
our family who had come out to work sat down and began to husk. Word 
had been sent beforehand that we were going to give a husking feast, and 
the invited helpers soon appeared. There was no particular time set fen- 
their coming, but we expected them in one of the morning hoiirs.'^ 

For the most part these were young men from nineteen to thirty years 
of age, but a few old men would probably be in the company ; and these were 
welcomed and given a share of the feast. 

There might be twenty-five or thirty of the young men. They were 
paid for their labor with the meat given them to eat; and each carried a 
sharp stick on which he skewered the meat he could not eat, to take homc.^ 

The husking season was looked upon as a time of jollity; and youths 
and maidens dressed and decked themselves for the occasion. 

• Buffalobird-woman means that the huskers arrived in the fields in the morning to begin the day's 
labors. More than one com pile might be husked in a single day. —Gilbert L. Wilson 

' Water Chief having strolled into the cabin while Buffalobird-woman was dictating, here inter- 
rupted with the following: 

"The owner of a field would come and notify the crier of some society, as the Fox or Dog society, 
or some other. The crier would go on the roof of the society's lodge and call. 'All you of the Fox society 
come hither; they want you to husk. When you all get here, we will go to that one's garden and husk the 
coml' 

"We young men of the society all gathered together and marched to the field to which we were bidden. 
In old times we took our guns with us. for the Sioux might come up to attack us. As we approached the 
field we began to sing, that the girls might hear us. We knew that our sweethearts would take notice of 
our singing. The girls themselves did not sing. 

"At the corn pile in each garden would be the woman owner and maybe two or three girls. On our 
way to some field, if we passed through other fields with com piles at which were girls, each young man 
looked to see if his sweetheart was there; and if he saw her he would yell, expecting that she would recog- 
nize his voice. 

"Sometimes two societies husked at one corn pile. Any of the societies might be asked. It the pile 
was too big for one society, another society was asked, if the owner could afford the food for the feast. 

"Different societies would be husking in different gardens all at the same time. 

"Sometimes a group of young men belonging to different societies were asked to come and husk. This 
was chiefly at small gardens; the societies were usually asked to come and husk the big com piles of the 
larger gardens. 

"If a society went early, they got through just after midday. By early I mean nine o'clock in the 
morning. 

"When we had finished husking one pile, we went to another. We worked late, by moonlight, even. 

"Some man of the family and his wife would be out all night and watch by the com if they had not 
gotten all the husked ears borne in to the village. Also while the pile awaited husking watchers stayed by 
to protect against horses." 



44 GILBERT LIVINGSTONE WILSON 

Of course each young man gave particular help to the garden of his 
sweetheart. Some girls were more popular than others. The young men 
were apt to vie with one another at the husking pile of an attractive girl. 

Some of the young men rode ponies, and when her corn pile had been 
husked, a youth would sometimes lend his pony to his sweetheart for her 
to carry home her com. She loaded the pony with loose ears in bags, 
bound on cither side of the saddle, or with strings of braided corn laid upon 
the pony's back. 

The husking season, like the green com season, lasted about ten days. 
The young men helped faithfully each day, and when they had husked all 
the corn in one field, they moved to another. Thus all the com piles were 
speedily husked. 

The husking was always done in the field. We never carried the com 
to the village to be husked, as the husks would then have dried, and hurt 
the hands of the husker. As we plucked the ears, we piled them in a heap 
in the field, to keep the husks moist and soft.^ 

Rejecting Green Ears 

As the buskers worked they were careful not to add any green ears to 
the husked pile. A green ear would turn black and spoil, and be fit for 
nothing. 

Every husker knew this; and if a young man was helping another family 
husk, he laid in a little pile beside him, any green ears that he found. These 
green ears belonged to him, to eat or to feed to his pony. 

Last year a white man hired me to gather the corn in his field and husk 
it; and I kept aU the green ears for myself, for that is my custom. I 
do not know whether that white man liked it or not. It may be he thought 
I was stealing that green corn ; but I was following the custom that I learned 
of my tribe. 

I am an Indian; if a white man hires me to do work for him, he must 
expect that I will follow Indian custom. 

* "Corn in old times was gathered in September. A basket was carried on the back and the corn was 
tossed into it over the shoulder, or the basket was set on the ground and filled. This work was done by 
the women. The com having been plucked, the owner of the field notified people what food she wanted to 
serve — meat or boiled corn-and-beans — and young men came to husk the corn. A pile might be three 
or four feet high and twenty feet long. Tiie men huskers sat on one side of the pile and the women on the 
other. The big ears were strung in braids. A braid was long enough to reach from the thigh around under 
the foot and up again to the other side of the thigh. A husker would try the newly made braid with his 
foot as he held the ends in his hands. Unless *his was done a weak place in the string might escape notice 
and the braid break, and all the others would then laugh. 

"Small ears were tossed into one place. Four or five women would carry off these ears in baskets; 
they bore the filled baskets right up the ladder to the top of the drying stage. The braided strings were 
often borne home on the backs of ponies, ten strings on a pony. They were hung like dead snakes on the 
railings above the floor of the stage to dry. 

"Boys and young men went to the huskin^^ bees because of the fun to be had; they wanted to see the 
girls!" — -Edward Goodbird (related m 1009). 



AGRICULTURE OF THE HIDATSA IXDIAXS 45 

Braiding Corn 

Most of the com as it was husked was tossed into a pile, to be borne 
later to the village. This was true of all the smaller and less favored ears: 
the best of the larger ears were braided into strings. 

As we husked, if a long ear of good size and appearance was found, it 
was laid aside for braiding. For this purpose the husk was bent back upon 
the stub of the stalk on the big end of the ear, leaving the three thin leaves 
that cling next to the kernels still lying on the ear in their natural posi- 
tion. The part of the husk that was bent back was cut off with a knife; 
the three thin leaves that remained were now bent back on the ear, and the 
ear was laid aside. Another ear was treated in the same way and laid be- 
side the first, also with its thin leaves bent back. And thus, until a row 
of ears lay extended side by side upon the ground, all the ears lying point 
forward. 

Another row was started; and the ears, also lying point forward and 
leaned against the first row, were laid so as to cover the thin bent-back 
leaves of the first row, to protect them from the sun. As the braiding was 
done with these thin leaves, if they were too dry — as the sun was very apt 
to make them — they would break. 

When a quantity of these ears, all with thin husk leaves bent back, had 
. accumulated, one of the buskers passed them to someone of the young men, 
who braided them; or one of the women of the family owning the field 
might braid them. 

Even with care the thin leaves were sometimes too dry for the braider 
to handle safely; and he would fill his mouth with water and blow it cjvcr 
the leaves. 

Fifty-four or fifty-five ears were commonly braided to a sti'ing; but the 
number varied more or less. In my father's family, we often braided 
strings of fifty-six or fifty-seven ears. 

I do not know why this number was chosen; but I think this number 
of ears was about of a weight that a woman could well carry and put 
upon the drying stage. 

When the string was all braided, the braider took either end in his hand, 
and placing his right foot against the middle of the string, gave the ends a 
smart pull. This stretched and tightened the string, and made it look 
neater and more finished; it also tried if there might be any weak places in it. 

We braided all varieties of corn but two, ata'ki tso'ki, or hard white, 
and tsi'di tso'ki, or hard yellow. These varieties we reckoned too hard to 
parch, and for this reason they were not braided. We did, however, some- 
times parch hard yellow to be pounded up into meal for corn balls. 

The strings of braided com were borne to the village on the backs of 
ponies. Some families laid ten strings on a pony; but in my father's family 



46 GILBERT LIVINGSTONE WILSON 

we never laid on so many, believing it made too heavy a load for the poor 
beast. 

The braided strings were hung to dry on the drying stage upon the 
railing that lay in the upper forks; and if there was need, poles or dr^ang 
rods were laid across the rails and strings were hung over these also.' 

These drying rods were laid across only where the forks supported the 
rails (at the same places the staying thongs were tied), for at these places 
the stage could better bear the weight of the heav>' strings of corn; the dry- 
ing rods were bound at either end to the railing, to stay them. 

The Smaller Ears 

Meanwhile the smaller and less favored ears were being carried home in 
baskets. It took the members of my father's family a whole day, and the 
next day following until late in the afternoon, to get this work done. 

Each carrier, as she brought in a basket of corn, ascended the log lad- 
der of the stage and emptied the com on the stage floor. Here the com 
lay in a long heap, in the middle of the floor; for a free path was always 
left around the edge for us women; having this path for our use, we did 
not have to tread on the com as we moved about. Also, if a pony came 
in with a load of Ijraided corn, the heavy strings could be handed up to us 
women on the stage as we moved around in tliis free path. 

As I now remember, our family's husked com when piled on the stage 
floor, made a heap about eight yards long and four yards wide, and about 
fom- feet high in the middle, from which point the pile sloped down on all 
sides. This was the loose corn, the smaller ears; and besides these there 
were about one hundred strings of braided corn hung on the railing above 
the heap. I give these measurements, judging as nearly as I can from the 
size of our drying stage, and from om- average yearly corn yield, when I 
was a young woman. I tliink the figures are approximately accurate. 

For about eight days the com lay thus in a long heap upon the stage. 
At the end of that time the ears on the top of the heap had become dry 
and smooth and threatened to roll down the sides of the pile. We now 
took drying rods and laid them along the floor against the posts, two or 
three of them, for the whole length of the stage on either side, and on the 
ends of the stage. Planks split from cottonwood trunks were leaned 
against these drying rods, on the side next the com. The corn heap was 
now spread evenly over the floor of the drying stage for the depth of about 

• "Sometimes for £un we lads used to take long poles with nooses on the end and snare off one ear of a 
braid of com as it hung drying; for the braids were soft when fresh. An ear broken off, we would run off 
and make a fire and parch the com. This was when we were little fellows, ten or eleven years old. The 
owner would run after us, and if he caught one of us, whipped him. However, this was our custom; and 
the owner and the boy's father both looked upon it as a kind of lark, and not anything very serious." 

— Edward Goodbird 



AGRICULTURE OF THE HIDATSA IXDIAXS 47 

a foot; the split planks prevented the dry smooth ears from sliding ofl the 
stage. The dry ears had a tendency to roll or slide down the sides of the 
com pile, as fresh ears did not. 

This spreading out the com heap evenly had also the effect of stirring 
up the underlying ears and exposing them to the air. 

If rain fell while the com was thus drying on the stage, it gave us no 
concern. The corn soon dried again, and no hann was done it. 

The com, spread thus in an even heap, took about three more days to 
dry, or eleven days in all. Then we began threshing. 

Drying the Braided Ears 

The strings of braided corn hanging on the rails at the top of the posts 
of the drying stage, dried much more quickly than the loose ears heaped 
on the stage floor. The wind, rattling the dry ears of the strings together, 
was apt to shell out the drying kernels; it was therefore usttal for us be- 
fore threshing time to tie these braids together so that the wind could not 
rattle them. 

To do this I would ascend the ladder and make ni}- wa}- along the edge 
of the stage floor, making places in the com with my feet as I walked, so 
that my feet would be on the stage floor and not tread on the drying corn. 
I would push ten of the braided strings together on the rail or the drying 
rod on which they hung, and tie them by passing around them a raw liide 
thong. 

These braided strings, bound thus in bundles of ten, hung on the stage 
until we were ready to store them in the cache pit; and this we could not 
do until we had our main harvest, the loose cars, threshed and ready +o 
store also. 

Seed Corx 
Selecting the Seed 

I have said that for braiding corn we chose the longest and finest ears. 
In my father's family we used to braid about one hundred strings, some 
years less, some years more, as the season had been wet or dry; for the 
yield of fine ears was always less in a dry year. Of these braided strings 
we selected the very best in the spring for seed. 

My mothers reckoned that we should need five braided strings of soft 
white, and about thirty ears of soft yellow, for seed. Of ma'ikadicake, or 
gummy, we raised a little each year, not much; ten ears of this, for seed, 
my mothers thought were a plenty. 

Hard white and hard yellow com, I have said, were not braided, be- 
cause not used for parching. For seed of these varieties, some good ears 
were taken from the dr^-ing pile on the com stage and stored in the cache 



48 GILBERT LIVINGSTONE WILSON 

pit for the next year with loose grain of the same variety. The ears were 
not put in a sack, but thrown in with the loose grain. 

When I selected seed corn, I chose only good, full, plump ears; and I 
looked carefully to see if the kernels on any of the ears had black hearts. 
When that part of a kernel of com which joins the cob is black or dark 
colored, we say it has a black heart. This imperfection is caused by pluck- 
ing the ear when too green. A kernel with a black heart will not grow. 

An ear of com has always small grains toward the point of the cob, and 
large grains toward the butt of the ear. When I came to plant corn, I used 
only the kernels in the center of the cob for seed, rejecting both the small 
and the large grains of the two ends. 

Seed corn was shelled from the cob with the thumb; we never threshed 
it with sticks. Sometimes we shelled an ear by rubbing it against another 
ear. 

Keeping Two Years' Seed 

Corn kept for seed would be best to plant the next spring; and it would 
be fertile, and good to plant, the second spring after harvesting. The 
third year the seed was not so good; and it did not come up very well. 
The fourth year the seed would be dead and useless. 

Knowing that seed corn kept good for at least two years, it was my 
family's custom to gather enough seed for at least two years, in seasons 
in which our crops were good. Some years, in spite of careful hoeing, our 
crops were poor; the ears were small, there was not much grain on them, 
and what grain they bore was of poor quality. We did not like to save 
seed out of such a crop. Also, frost occasionally destroyed our crop, or 
most of it. 

When, therefore, we had a -year of good crops, we put away seed enough 
to last for two years; then, if the next year yielded a poor crop, we still 
had good seed to plant the third season. 

In my father's family we always observed this custom of putting away 
seed for two years ; and we did this not only of our corn, but of our squash 
seeds, beans, sunflower seeds, and even of our tobacco seeds; for if I re- 
member rightly, the tobacco fields were sometimes injured by frost just 
as were our corn fields. 

Not all families in our village were equally wise. Some were quite 
improvident, and were not at all careful to save seed from their crops. 
Such families, in the spring, had to buy their seed from families that were 
more provident. 

Saving a good store of seed was therefore profitable in a way. In my 
father's family we often sold a good deal of seed in the spring to families 
that wanted. The price was one tanned buffalo skin for one string of 
braided seed corn. 




Corn stage of Buttci fly's wife 

This stage lacks railings, and is floored Arikara fabhiun with a willow mat. A pile 
of drying corn is seen on the stage floor. In ihe ancient villagt-s, where the lodges were 
crowded together, the railings were always present. 




Owl Woman puunding corn into nu-al in a ctu'n mortar 



AGRICVLTURE OF THE HWATSA INDIANS 



49 



Even to-day, families on this reservation come to me to buy seed corn 
and seed beans. A handful of beans, enough for one planting, I sell for 
one calico — enough calico, that is, to make an Indian woman a dress, or 
about ten yards. 

Threshin'g Corn 
The Booth 

The threshing season was always a busy one, for all the families of the 
village would be threshing their corn at the same time. 

Com was threshed in a booth, under the drying stage. 

To make the booth, I began with the section at one end of the stage. 
As is shown in figure 12, on the posts -.4 and D, and B and C, were bound 




Figure 1 2 
The figure haj been redrawn from sketches by GoodbirJ. The original is a st^^e nov.- standing on 
the reservation, but with mat of willows for floor; to this Goodbird added a threshing booth as he saw 
used by his grandmother when he was a boy. Goodbird's sketches are closely followed, excepting that 
the floor of slabs is restored. The figure tallies in every respect with Buflalobird-woman's description, 
and the model made by her for the .\merican Museum of Xatur.il History. 



two poles, e and/, at about two feet below the stage floor; upon these were 
bound two other poles, g and h\ the poles e, /, and h were bound outside 
of the posts that supported them. 

A long raw hide thong was used for the corner ties. The first pole was 
raised in position and bound firmly to the post; a^d if a second pole was to 
be laid over the first — as was done at two of the comers — the thong was 
drawn up and made to bind it also to the post. We always kept a number of 
these raw hide thongs in the lodge against just such uses as this ; they were 
strong, and served every purpose of ropes; we oiled them to keep them soft. 



50 



GILBERT LIVINGSTONE WILSON 



A tent cover was now fetched out of the lodge. Tents were of dif- 
ferent sizes, from those of seven, to those of sixteen buffalo cow hides. A 
woman used whatever sized tent cover she owned; but a cover of thirteen 
skins was of convenient size. 




TENT- COVER 



Figure 13 

Around the curved bottom of the tent cover was a row of holes, through 
wliich wooden pins were driven to peg the tent to the ground. The tent 
cover was bound to the four over-hanging poles, inside of the four posts, 
by means of a long thong woven in and out through the holes, as shown 
in ligure 13. 

Bound thus to the poles, and quite enclosing the space within them, 
the tent cover made a kind of booth. The upper parts of the cover, in- 




Figure 14 



AGRICULrURE OF THE HID ATS A IXDIAXS 



51 



eluding the smoke flaps, that now hung sweeping the ground, were drawn 
in and spread flat on the ground to make a floor for the booth ; and stones 
laid upon them weighted the cover against the wing. 

In figure 12 the four posts, A, B, C, and 
D, enclose one section of the drying stage; the 
Ijooth did not enclose the whole ground space 
of this section, but about three fifths of it. 

Figure 14, 1 think, will explain the an-angc- 
mcnt of the booth. The end corners, X and 
y, were bound to opposite posts, M and A', 
respectively, the lapping edges, at 0, forming 
a door through which the threshers entered 
the booth; P and P' were bound to posts at 
p and p' ; the final corner, M, was left untied 
until the threshers had entered and were ready 
to begin their task. (Compare with figiu-e 
12, in which, however, the posts arc differ- 
ently lettered.) 

Before they did this they went above and 
removed the planks and drying rods laid around 
the edge of the stage floor, and pushed the 
com back toward the middle of the floor into 
a long heap again, that it might not fall over 
the edge, now that the planks were taken 
away. One of the floor planks was now re- 
moved, at R. Through the aperture thus 
made, com was pushed down to left and right 
of R ; this was continued until there was a pile 
of com just under the aperture, and running 
the width of the booth, about eighteen or 
twenty inches high. 

The threshers now entered the booth and 
tied the corner at M, closing the door. In my 
father's family there were usually three thresh- 
ers, women ; and they sat in a row on the floor 
of the booth, facing the pile of corn. Each woman had a stick for a flail, 
with which she beat the corn. 

Flails were of ash or cotton wood. An ash flail would be about three 
and a half feet long and from three quarters of an inch to an inch in diam- 
eter, and was cut green. A cottonwood flail was seldom used green; 
and as it was therefore lighter than the green ash, a cottonwood flail was 
a little greater in diameter, but of the same length. We were careful that 




Figure IS 



52 GILBERT LIVINGSTONE WILSON 

a flail should not be too heavy, lest it break the kernels in the tlireshinj;. 
Kinikinik sticks were sometimes used for flails. 

A diagram (figure 1 5) has been drawn to illustrate how I worked in a 
threshing booth when I was a young woman. As shown, I sat on the 
extreme left; one of my mothers and my sister sat as indicated, on my right. 
More than three seldom worked in a tlireshing booth at the same time, at 
least in our family; however, I have known my sister, Not-frost, to make 
a fotirth. I have even known five to be threshing in the bootli of some other 
family in the village, but never more than five. 

To thresh the corn, I raised my flaU and brought it down smartly, 
but not severely, upon the pile of corn. The grain as it was thus beaten 
off the dry cobs would fall by its own weight into the pile, and work its way 
to the bottom; while the lighter cobs would come to the top of the pile. 

Beating the ears with the flails caused many of the kernels to leap and 
fly about; but the tent cover, enclosing the booth, caught all these flying 
kernels. It was, indeed, for this that the booth was built. 

As the cobs, beaten empty of grain, accumulated on the pile, we drew 
them off and cast them out of the door of the booth upon a tent cover, 
spread to receive them, under the middle section of the stage. Many of 
these cobs had a few smaU grains clinging to them; and these must be saved, 
for we wasted nothing. 

Having paused then to throw out the cobs, we returned to the pile and 
thrust our flails in under it, drawing them upward through the com, thus 
working the unthreshed ears to the top. As much as we could, we tried 
to keep the unthreshed ears in the middle of the pile, and the threshed grain 
pushed to right and left, as will be seen by studying the diagram. To 
thresh one pile, or filling of corn in a booth, took a half day's work. 

Order oj the Day's Work 

Our habit was to begin quite early in the morning, enclose the booth 
with the tent cover, and set to work threshing; finishing the first filling, 
or pile, about midday. In the afternoon we began a second pile, first heap- 
ing the already threshed grain to right and left, and behind the threshers. 

I have said that on the ground under the second section of the stage, 
a second tent cover was spread to catch the cobs. A part of this tent 
cover was drawn in under the edge of the booth to help carpet the floor 
of the booth. 

At the end of the day we turned our attention to the pile of cobs; and 
with oiu- thumbs we shelled off every grain that clung to the cobs. From 
the cobs of a day's threshing we collected about as many grains of com as 
would fill a white man's hat. This was taken into the booth and thrown on 
the pile of threshed grain. 



AGRICULTURE OF THE HIDATSA IXDIAXS 53 

We now disposed of the grain for the night. If we had gotten 
through threshing rather early in the day, we bore the newly threshed 
grain in baskets into the lodge, and emptied it into a bull boat. 

If we had gotten through our threshing rather late in the day, wc made 
the door of the booth tight, and left the grain on the booth floor through- 
out the night. 

Tlie Cobs 

The day's threshing over, we attended to the cobs. I have said that 
we sheUed off any kernels that clung to them after threshing, so that they 
were now quite clean of grain. 

All day long, as we threshed, wc had watched that no horses got at the 
cobs to trample and nibble them, or that any dog ran over them, or any 
children played in them. Then, in the evening, if the weather was fine, 
and there was little wind, one of my mothers or I carried the cobs outside 
of the \'illage to a grassy place and heaped them in a pile about five feet 
high. A pile of cobs of such a height I usually gathered from a day's 
threshing. 

In our prairie country, on a fair day, the wind usually dies down about 
sunset; and now, when the air was still, I fired the cob pile. As the pile 
began to burn, I could usually see the burning cob piles of two or three 
Other families lighting up the gathering dusk. 

I had to stay and watch the fire, to keep any mischievous boys from 
coming to play in the buniing heap. Children of from ten to fifteen years 
of age were quite a pest at cob-firing time. They had a kind of game they 
were fond of playing. Each would cut a long, flexible, green stick, and at 
the edge of the Missouri he would get a ball of wet mud and stick it on his 
stick. He would try to approach one of the burning piles, and with his 
stick, slap the mud ball smartly into the burning coals, some of which, still 
glowing, would stick in the wet mud. Using the stick as a sling, the child 
would throw the mud ball into the air, aiming often at another cliild. 
Other children would be throwing mud balls at one another at the same 
time, and these, with the bits of glowing charcoal clinging to them, would 
go sailing through the air like shooting stars. Knowing very well that 
the children would get into my burning cobs if I even turned my back, I 
was careful to stay by to watch. 

At last the fire had burned down and the coals were dead; and noth- 
ing was left but a pile of ashes. It was now night, and I would go home. 
Early the next morning, before the prairie winds had arisen, I would go 
out again to my ash heap. On the top of the ashes, if nothing had dis- 
turbed them in the night and an unexpected wind had not blown them 
about, I would find a thin crust had formed. Tliis crust I carefully broke 
and gathered up with my fingers, squeezing the pieces in my hand into 



54 GILBERT LIVINGSTONE WILSON 

little lumps, or balls. Sometimes I was able to gather four or five of these 
little balls from one pile of ashes; but never more than five. 

These balls I carried home. There were always several baskets hang- 
ing in the lodge, ready for any use we might want of them ; and it was our 
habit to keep some dried buffalo heart skins, or some dried buffalo paunch 
skins, in the lodge, for wrappers, much as white families keep wrapping 
paper in the house. The ash balls I wrapped up in one of these skins, into 
a package, being carefid not to break the balls. I put the package in one 
of the baskets, to hang up until there was occasion for its use. 

These ash balls were used for seasoning. I have explained elsewhere 
how we used spring salt to season our boiled com; and that every day in 
the lodge, we ate ma'dakapa, or pounded dried ripe com boiled with beans. 
But in the fall, instead of seasoning tliis dish with spring salt, or alkali 
salt as you call it, we preferred to use this seasoning of ash crust. 

In my father's family, for each meal of ma'dakapa we filled the com 
mortar three times, two-and-a-half double handfuls of com making one 
filling of the mortar. Each time we filled the mortar, we dropped in with 
the com a Httle of the ash cmst, a bit about as big as a white child's marble. 
Finally, a piece about as big, or perhaps a little larger, was also dropped 
into the boiling pot. 

We Indians were fond of this seasoning; and we liked it much better 
than we did our spring salt. We did not use spring salt, indeed, if we had 
ash balls in the lodge. 

We called these ash balls ma'dakapa ise'pe, or ma'dakapa darkener. 

We did not make ash balls if the dogs or horses had trampled on the 
cobs; or if children had mussed in the fire; nor would we make ash balls 
if the day had not been rather calm, for a high wind was sure to blow dust 
into the cobs. 

We bumed cobs and collected ash balls after every thresliing day, unless 
hindered by storm or high wind. But even if the harvest was a good one, 
the ash balls that we got from the bumed cobs for seasoning never lasted 
long. We were so fond of seasoning our food with them that every family 
had used up its store before the autumn had passed. 

Winnowing 

I have said that after the day's threshing wc stored the newly threshed 
grain for the night, either in the booth or in a bull boat in the earth lodge ; 
and that we then fired the cobs that had accumulated during the day. 

The next morning we spread an old tent cover outside the lodge, near 
the drying stage; and we fetched the loose grain of the previous day's 
threshing out of the booth, or the earth lodge and spread it evenly and 
thinly upon the tent cover. The grain was here left to dry untU evening. 



AGRICULTURE OF THE HIDATSA IXDIANS 




Figure 16 



A litUc before sunset, and before the prairie wind had died down, wc 
fetched baskets and winnowed the grain. The basket was half filled with 
grain, held aloft, and the grain poured gently out in the wind. Wooden 
bowls were often used for winnowing, 
instead of baskets; but they did not 
hold as much grain. 

The winnowing over, I would take 
up a few grains of the com to test 
\\ith my teeth. If, when I bit a ker- 
nel in two, it broke with a sharp, 
snappy sound, I knew- it w-as quite 
dried; if it broke dull and soft, I knew- 
the grain needed another day's dry- 
ing; but at the most, this second 
day's drying was enough. 

The winnowed grain, now well 
dried, was bome into the earth lodge 
and stored temporarily in bull boats. 
In the diagram (figiire 16), is shown 
where the bull boats full of grain used 
to stand in my father's lodge. Some years our harvest filled tlux'c bull 
boats of threshed grain; some years it filled five. In the year illustrated 
by this diagram, there were tliree bull boats standing between the planks 
at the left of the door, and the fire; and two bull boats on the other side 
of the fire, all full of grain. 

The threshed grain, I have said, received its final drying and winnow- 
ing tipon a tent cover (or covers) spread on the ground near the earth lodge. 
It was my own habit always to spread these tent covers beside the drying 
stage on the side farthest away from the lodge. However, the particu- 
lar spot where the winnowing was done, was determined by the convenience 
of the household. 

We did not usually thresh consecvitive days. We threshed one day ; dried 
the grain and winnowed it the second; and threshed again the tliird day. 

Removing the Booth 

During these days the booth did not remain always in one place. When 
the corn on the floor of the first section had all been tlireshed, the booth 
was removed to another section. I will now explain how- this was done. 

In figure 1 7 my son has diagramed the floor plan of my mothers' stage 
and threshing booth, as I remember them. 

The stage stands in front of Small Ankle's lodge, which faces toward 
the west. The stage is divided into three sections, .4, B. C. The posts 
upon which the floor of the stage rests are d. c, f. g, /;, /, /, k. 



56 



GILBERT LIVINGSTONE WILSON 



The booth was first raised under section .4, based upon /g, and enclos- 
ing grotind space Imfg. 

Sometimes we got up early, bound the poles to the posts and erected 
our booth before breakfast; then after we had eaten, three or four of us 
would go out to thresh, one first going up to push down the corn. She 
raised a plank along the side, /g, just within the booth; this, if the door of 




i 1 



w 




i n ris ^ ai 



T~°K 



Figure 17 



Ground plan of earth lodge here accompanies that of 
stage^to show relative positions of the two structures. The 
stage, always stood, as here, directly before the lodge en- 
trance. The figures are drawn to scale. 



the booth was on the side hn. The corn on the floor of the stage in sec- 
tion A was then shoved down as wanted. 

.^Jlv^'^he corn pushed down for one threshing, made a pile running the 
width of the booth, and about forty inches wide and twenty inches high. 
When the pile was threshed one of the women went up and shoved down 



AGRICULTURE OF THE HIDATSA INDIANS S7 

another pile. The corn in one section was threshed in about three such 
piles. 

Sometimes, if we worked hard and had plenty of help, we threshed one 
whole section in one day ; but the beating, beating, beating of the corn was 
hard work, and we more often stopped when wearied and rested until the 
next day. I have already said that we often spent the next day at the 
lighter work of drying and winnowing. 

When the corn in section A was all threshed, the booth was moved 
over under the floor of section B, enclosing fgno; and again a plank was taken 
up to let down the com. Now this plank was always taken up above the 
side of the booth opposite the door; and the door was always placed down 
wind. Thus, if the wind was from the north, the door would be placed on 
the south side of the booth, and the plank was taken up on the north side, 
just within the booth. Corn was always threshed in the booth on the side 
opposite the door. 

Sections .4 and B of my mothers' stage, as shown in diagram (figure 17) 
contained only yellow corn. Section C, or a part of it, contained white 
com. Braided strings of corn were also hung all around the railing above, 
but these were not to be threshed. 

Section B having been threshed, the booth was removed to section C, 
enclosing Itiqp. I have said that this section had white corn. Now this 
white corn was piled toward the south end of the stage; and between it and 
the yellow corn was left a narrow vacant place on the floor. Above this 
vacant place, meat was often dried; but this meat was removed when we 
were ready to thresh. 

Placing the booth to enclose Jiiqp, directly under the vacant place, 
made it easy for us to raise a plank here to push down tlie white corn. Tf 
we had placed the booth on the south end of this section, we should have 
had to dig into the corn piled here, in order to raise a plank. 

Our family's threshing lasted about five days in a year of good yield; 
if the year was a poor one, threshing lasted only two or three days. 

Thrcslting Braided Corn 

The strings of braided corn were stored in the cache pit (which I will 
describe later) in the whole ear. If, during the winter, or the following 
spring, I wanted to thresh a string of braided corn, I put the whole string 
into a skin sack; and this sack I beat and shook, turning it over and around 
until all the grain had fallen off the cobs. The sack was then emptied. 

Antount of Harvest 

Our harvested com, in a good year, lasted my father's family until the 
next harvest, with a small quantity even then unused. Some years we 



58 



GILBERT LIVINGSTONE WILSON 



ran out of corn before the harvest came, but not often. We ate our com 
as long as it lasted, not husbanding it toward the last, because we knew 
there were elk and buffalo and antelope to be had for the hunting. If we 
ran out of com at all, it was about the first of August; sometimes a little 
earlier. Sometimes when wc had eaten all oiu- last year's harvest there 
was a small ciuantity from the previous season's harvest with which we 
eked out our shortage. 

My mothers, however, were industrious women, and our shortage, if 
any, was never for long. Some families, not very pro\-ident, had consumed 
all their harvest as early as in the spring; but such never happened in my 
father's family. 

Sioux Purchasing Corn 

The Standing Rock Sioux used to bviy corn of us, coming up in mid- 
summer, or autumn. They came not because they were in need of food, 
but because thej^ liked to eat our com, and had always meat and skins to 
trade to us. For one string of braided corn they gave us one tanned 
buffalo robe. 



Varieties of Corn 
Description oj Varieties 



We raised nine well marked 
lowing are the names of the varieties: 

Ata'ki tso'ki 



(White hard) 

Ata'ki 

(White) 

Tsi'di tso'ki 
I, Yellow hard) 

Tsi'di tapa' 
(Yellow soft) 

Ma'ikadicake 
(Gummy) 

Do'ohi 

(Blue) 

Hi'ci ce'pi 
(Red dark) 

Hi'tsiica . 

(Light-red) 

Ata'ki aku' hi'tsnca 
(White, kind of light red) 



arieties of corn in our village. Fol- 

Hard white 
Soft white 
Hard yellow 
Soft }-ellow 
Gummy 
Blue 

Dark red 
Light red 
Pink top 



AGRICULTURE OF THE HIDATSA INDIA. \S 



59 



Oui- Hidatsa word for corn is ko'xati; but in speaking of any variety 
of com, the work ko'xati is commonly omitted. In like manner, ata'ki 
means white; but if one went into a lodge and asked for "ata'ki" it was 
always understood to mean soft white corn. 

Of the nine varieties, the ata'ki, or soft white, was the kind most raised 
in our village. The ma'ikadicak?, or gummy, was least raised, as almost 
its only use was in making corn balls. 

In mv father's family, we raised two kinds of corn, tsi'di tso'ki, or hard 
yellow; and ata'ki, or soft white. 

The names of the varieties suggest pretty well their characteristics. 
The ata'ki aku' hi'tsiica, or white-with-light-red, was marked by a light 
red or pink color toward the top or beard end of the ear. The name pink- 
top which you suggest for this variety will, I think, do for an English 
name, if the literal translation of the Indian term is, as you say, rather 
clumsy. 

We planted each variety of corn separately. We Indians understood 
perfectly the need of keeping the strains pure, for the different varieties 
had not all the same uses with us. 



Hoiu i'orn Travels 

We Indians knew that corn can travel, as we say; thus, if the seed 
planted in one field is of white corn, and that in an adjoining field is of 
some variety of yellow com, the white will 
travel to the yellow com field, and the yellow to 
the white corn field. 

Perhaps j'ou do not understand what I mean 
by com traveling. Well, let us suppose that 
there are two fields lying side by side, the one in 
yellow, the other in white corn. When the corn 
of the two fields is ripe, and the ears are opened, 
it will be found that many of the cars in the 
yellow rows that stand nearest the white field 
will have white kernels standing in the cob; 
also, in the rows of white corn that stand near- 
est the yellow field, there %vill be many ears with 
yellow kernels mixed in with the white kernels. 

We Indians did not know what power it 
was that causes this. We only knew that it 
was so. We also knew that when a field stands alone, away from other 
fields, and is planted with white corn, it will grow up in white corn only; 
there will not be any yellow grains in the ears. And so of any other 
variety. 



A 
B 


A' 
B' 


C 


C 



Figure 18 



60 GILBERT LIVINGSTONE WILSON 

Sometimes two women, owning adjoining fields, would make an agree- 
ment ; they would divide their fields into sections and plant the correspond- 
ing sections on opposite sides of the division line alike. Thus in the dia- 
gram (figure 18), A and A' may be planted in a variety of yellow corn; 
B and B' may be planted in beans and squashes; and C and C may be 
planted in a variety of white corn; but even this did not make so very 
much difference; still the com traveled. 

We thought that perhaps the reason of this was that the ground here 
was soft, or mellowed and broken by cultivation. We thought corn could 
not travel readily over hard, or unbroken ground ; and as you notice in the 
diagram, although the two patches of yellow corn are separated from the 
white corn by the two patches of squashes and beans, yet the beans and 
squashes are in soft, or cttltivated ground. We thought corn traveled 
inore easily over soft ground. 

However, we really did not know what made corn travel ; vvc just knew 
that it did. 

Uses of the Varieties 

Aia'ki Tso'ki 

I think that perhaps at first, there was but one variety of corn, ata'ki 
tso'ki, or hard white; and that all other varieties have sprung from it. 
I know that when we plant hard white seed, ears often develop that show 
color in the grain. Sometimes ears are produced bearing pink grains 
toward the beard end of the cob; such ears we call i'puta (top) hi'tsiica 
(pink); that is, pink top, or light-red top. In color these ears differed in 
no wise from ata'ki aku' hi'tsiica. 

Hard white was very generally raised, nearly every family in the tribe 
having a field of it. 

There were two chief dishes chiefly prepared from hard white corn; 
these I will now describe. 

Mdpi' Nakapa'. I put water in a pot, and in tliis I dropped a section 
of a string of dried squash, with some beans. Dried squash was always 
strung on long grass strings; and having, from one of these strings, cut off 
a piece I tied the ends together, making a wreath, or ring, four or five 
inches in diameter. It was this ring of dried squash slices that I dropped 
into the pot. When well boiled, I lifted the squash slices out by the string 
and dropped them into a wooden bowl, where I mashed them and chopped 
them fine with a horn spoon. The mashed squash I dropped back into 
the kettle again, with the beans; the now empty string I threw away. 

Meanwhile corn had been parched, and some buffalo fats had been 
held over the coals on a stick, to roast. The parched corn and roast fats 
I pounded together in the corn mortar; and the pounded mass I stirred 
into the kettle. The mess was now ready to be eaten. 



AGRICULTURE OF THE HIDATSA INDIA XS 61 

This dish we called niapi'-nakapa', or poundcd-meal mush; from mapi/ 
something pounded, and nakapa', mush, something mushy. 

The dish was cspcciall}^ a morning meal; after eating it we started to 
work. 

Md'nakapa. A second way of preparing hard white corn was as fol- 
lows: I pounded the corn in a mortar to a meal, but without first parch- 
ing it. Most of this meal was fine, but there were many coarser bits in it, 
some of them as big as quarter grains of corn. 

Water was put in a kettle; I added the pounded meal, and when it boiled 
put in beans. No fats were added. 

As the mess boiled, I stirred it with a wooden paddle to prevent scorch- 
ing; I did not stir with a horn spoon as the hot water softened and spoiled 
the horn. 

When well boiled, the mess was served. 

We called this dish ma'nakapa'.'** 

A seasoning of spring salt, as we called it, was often added. A small 
palmful of the salt was mixed with a little water in a horn spoon; this 

"* In 1910 Buffalobird-woman gave an interesting and detailed account of the making of a clay pot. 
A newly made pot. she explained, was rubbed over with boiled pounded-corn meal; and she added this rather 
humorous variation of the recipe above: 

"This mush, or boiled, pounded-corn meal was made thus: 

"A clay pot was three-quarters filled with water and put on the fire to boil. Meanwhile, twelve 
double handfuls of corn were pounded in the corn mortar; usually we pounded three or four doublr hand- 
fuls at a time. This began after breakfast; it was work and made us women sweat. The corn was hard, 
ripe com, yellow or white. 

"These twelve double handfuls were thrown into the pot of now boiling water, and boiled for half an 
hour. As there was no grease in the pot, we had to stir the contents with a smooth stick to keep from 
sticking. 

"As the corn boiled a scummy substance would rise to the top. To this the woman cookini^ would 
touch the point of her horn spoon, and carry it to her tongue and lick it off. When she could taste that it 
was sticky enough, she knew that it was time to add beans. It took, as I have said, about half an hour for 
the corn to boil to this point. 

"She now added some spring salt. This is alkaline salt which we gathered about the mouth of 
springs. It was white. The woman put some of this salt in a cup and made a strong liquor — in old times 
instead of a cup she used a horn spoon. She now added the salt liquor to the mess. It took about enough of 
this white salt to make a heaping tablespoonful to one pot of this corn mess. As the salt liquor was poured 
into the pot. the woman held her hand over the mouth of the cup, so that if any pieces of grass or other 
refuse were in it, they would be strained out by her fingers. 

"The com when it is pounded does not pound evenly; and so when it was put into the pot, the 
finer part of the meal was cooked first. This rose to the top, and in old times was skimmed off The 
coarser parts of the meal took longer to cook; but the skiranied-off part, when the other was done, was 
poured back into the pot again. 

"When the pounded corn meal had now all cooked and the salt had been added, the beans were put in — 
red, spotted, black, or shield-figured, we did not have white beans in very old times; they were brought in 
by white men. The pot was now let bod until the beans were done. Beans were always added to the pot. 

"A pot of corn meal and beans was [almost] always on the fire in the lodge. The boys of the lodge 
liked to come around when the corn was cooking and dip horn spoons into the thick, rising liquor, and lick 
it off as I have described the woman doing as she cooked. 

"It was this sticky, rising liquor taken off the boiling corn to keep and return to it, that was used to 
rub over a newly made pot. When this was done, the pot was ready to boil corn in. 

"After using a pot, it was usually rubbed over with the residue of the boiled corn meal, or mush, be- 
cause this made the pot look better and last longer. 

"The skimraed-off liquor from a pot of boiling corn meal was also fed to a baby whose mother had 
died, and whose family could not hire a woman to nurse it." 



62 GILBERT LIVINGSTONE WILSON 

dissolved the salt and let the sand and dirt drop to the bottom. The dis- 
solved salt was poured off through the fingers, held to the mouth of the 
horn spoon; this strained out the sand and dirt. The salt turned the mush 
slightly yellow. 

As the soft mush boiled up in the cooking, we were fond of dipping a 
horn spoon into it, and licking off the back of the spoon. This was espe- 
cially a children's habit. 

Also at morning and c^•ening meals we ate hard white corn parched 
and mixed with fats; or madapo'zi i'ti'a, boiled whole coni. 

Atq'ki 

This is a soft, or as you call it, a flour corn, and was perhaps the fa- 
vorite variety grown by us. The word ata'ki means white; but when 
applied to corn we translate soft white, to distinguish from ata'ki tso'ki, 
or hard white. 

The use of ata'ki, or soft white, was very general, since it could be made 
into almost every kind of com food used by us. "It is the one variety," 
we used to say, "that can be used in any and every way." 

Soft white corn, parched and pounded into a meal, was boiled with 
squash and beans to make mapi' nakapa'. The unparchcd grain was 
pounded for meal to make ma'nakapa; but although good, we did not think 
the mush made from soft white meal was as good as that from the hard 
white com meal. 

Boiled Corn Ball. A less frequent dish made from soft white com was 
boiled com balls; it was made only from the dried ripe grain. 

I pounded a quantity of grain into meal, and poured the meal into a 
pot having hot water — but not too much water — stirring it well about. 
I now lifted out some of the mass into my left palm and patted it down 
with my right,, making a cake about as big around as a baking powder 
biscuit, but not so thick. This cake I dropped into a pot of boiling water, 
where it sank to the bottom. I continued tmtil the pot was full, or until 
I had all I wished to cook. 

No salt or other seasoning was added. 

As the pot boiled, one coiold see the corn cakes move around in the 
water; but they never floated, nor did they break apart. The boiling lasted 
about an hour. 

In olden days \\c ate these corn balls alone; now we more often eat 
them with coffee. 

Tsi'di Tso'ki and Tsi'di Tapa' 

The two varieties of tsi'di, or golden yellow corn, could be pounded 
and boiled to make mush, or ma'dakapa; or they could be boiled whole, 
to make madapo'zi i'ti'a. 



AGRICL'LTl'KE OF THE IIIDATSA iXPIAXS 63 

Mqdapo'zi I'ti'a. For this dish I put the shelled ripe grain, with 
fats, in a pot and boiled them until I saw the kernels break open; then I 
added beans, and when these were boiled, the mess was served. This 
dish we called madajio'zi i'ti'a. I do not know the derivation of madapo'zi; 
i'ti'a means large. I think you can translate "corn boiled whole." 

Hard yellow and soft j-ellow* com, roasted in the green ear, tasted sweet, 
as if a little sugar were in them. Especially was this true at the time when 
kernels were beginning to turn yellow. At this time each kernel shows a 
little yellow spot on the very top. For this reason this season was called 
isi'dotsxe, or yellow-ch'op time; for the little yellow spot looked like a drop 
on the top of the kernel. 

Other Soft Varieties 

Do'ohi, or blue, hi'ci ce'pi, dark red, and hi'tsiica, light red, were all 
soft corns and were cooked and prepared and stored just like ata'ki; these 
four varieties tasted exactly alike, if cooked in the same way. 

Ma'ikadieake 

Ma'ikadicake, or gumm}- corn, is of different colors; some is of a light 
red; some yellow flaked witli red; and some is in color like hard white: 
but all these slightly differing strains arc alike in this, that when the kernels 
dry they shrink up and become rough, or wrinkled. The name, ma'i- 
kadicake, comes from kadi'eake, or gum-like. 

Ma'ikadicake was the least grown of our five principal varieties of com; 
however, a good deal of this variety is still raised on this reservation. 

Ma'ikadicake was sometimes roasted green, when the kernels chewed 
up gummy in the mouth; but the one recognized use of this variety was 
to make com balls. 

Md'pi Mec'pi r'kiuta, or Corn Balls. Into a clay jiot while yet cold, 
I put shelled com and set it on the fire. As the grain parched, I stirred 
it with a stick. The heat made the kernels pop open somewhat, but not 
much. 

Meanwhile fats were roasted over the coals on the point of a slick; and 
these and the parched grain were dropped into the com mortar and pounded 
together. I then reached into the mortar and took out a handful of the 
meal, which being oily with the fats, held together in a lump. This lump 
I squeezed in my fingers and then tapped it gently on the edge of the mortar, 
making a slight dent or groove, lengthwise, in one side of the Imnp. The 
lump or ball — it was not exactty round — I dropped into a wooden bowl. 
The process was repeated until the bowl was full. 

Our native name for corn ball is ma'pi mee'pi i"kiuta, from ma'pi, 
something pounded, meS'pi, mortar, and i"kiuta, hit or pressed against; 



64 GILBERT LIVINGSTOXE WILSON 

that is pounded meal pressed against the mortar; but we translate, just 
corn ball. 

Corn balls were an acceptable present for a woman to give her daughter 
to take to her husband; the son-in-law might himself eat the corn balls, 
or share them with his parents or sisters. 

As I have said, the one recognized use of gmnmy corn was for parching 
to make com balls; but any of the soft corns could be used to make corn 
balls, as soft yellow, soft white, blue, light red, and the like. 

Parched Soft Corn. Corn of any of the soft varieties parched in a pot 
as just described, was often carried by hunters or travelers to be eaten as 
a lunch. The com was carried in a little bag made by drying a btiflalo's 
heart skin. 

Parching Whole Ripe Ears. Wc parched the whole ears, sometimes, 
of ripe soft white and soft yellow corn. We had many squash spits piled 
up in the rear of the lodge behind the beds; these made excellent roasting 
sticks. The eat was stuck on the end of the stick and held over the coals. 

Parching ripe corn on the ear was a winter custom; but bo\"s herding 
horses in the summer also parched whole cars sometimes for their midday 
lunch. 

We did parch other kinds of corn thus, besides soft white and soft }-el- 
low, but they were not so good. 

The gummy was not cooked in this way. 

Parching Hard Yellow Corn ivilh Sand. We sometimes parched hard 
yellow corn in a clay pot of our own make, with sand. Down on the sand 
bars by the Missouri we found clean, pure sand; if I wanted to parch hard 
yellow, I put a handful of this sand in my clay pot. 

The pot I now set on the coals of the fire place until the sand within 
was red hot. With a piece of old tent skin to protect my hand, I drew the 
pot a little way from the coals and dropped a double handful of corn with- 
in. I stirred the corn back and forth over the sand with a little stick. 

When I thought the com was quite heated through, I put the pot back 
on the coals again, still stimng the corn with the stick. Very soon aU the 
kernels cracked open with a sharp crackling noise; they burst open much 
as you say white man's popcorn does. 

Hard yellow corn parched in this way was softer than even the soft 
corns parched in a pot without sand. 

No variety of corn was good cooked in this way, except hard yellow; 
no other kind would do. 

Mqdqpo'zi Pq,'kici, or Lye-Made Hominy. There was another way in 
which we prepared hard and soft yellow and hard and soft white; tliis 
was to make it into hominy with lye. 

I collected about a quart of ashes; only two kinds were used, cotton- 
wood or elm wood ashes. When I was cooking with such wood and thought 



AGRICULTURE OF THE HID ATS A INDIANS 65 

of making hominy, I was careful to collect the ashes, raking away the other 
kinds first. 

I put on an iron kettle nearly full of water, and brought it to a boil. 
Into the boiling water I put the ashes, stirring them about with a stick. 
Then I set the pot off to steep for a short time. 

When the ashes had settled I poured the lye off into a vessel and cleaned 
the pot thoroughly. 

In earlier times the ashes were boiled in an earthen pot as indeed I 
have often seen it done when I was a girl. I was not quite twenty when 
we bought an iron pot for cooking. Before that we used only earthen 
pots for cooking in our family. 

Having cleaned the pot I poured the lye back into it, put the pot on 
the fire, and added shelled, ripe, dried com. This I boiled until the hidls 
came off the grain and the com kernels appeared white. 

I added a little water, and took the pot off the fire; I drained off the lye. 

I poured water into the pot and washed the com, rubbing the kernels 
between my palms; I drained off the water. 

I poured in water and washed the corn a second time, in the same way; 
I drained off the water. 

Again I put water in the pot and boiled the com in it. As the corn was 
already soft, this boiling did not take long. I now added fats, and beans, 
and sometimes dried squash, all at the same time; and the pot I replaced 
on the fire. When the beans and squash were cooked, the mess was ready 
to eat. 

Com so prepared w-e call madapo'zi pa'kici, or boiled-whole-com 
rubbed. It is so called because the hulls of the kernels were rubbed off 
between the palms at the time the corn was washed in water after the lye 
was poured off. 

General Characteristics of the Varieties 

We Hidatsas thought that our five principal varieties of corn, hard and 
soft white, hard and soft yellow, and gummy, had characteristics that 
marked them quite distinctly one from the other. 

For one thing, they had each a distinct taste. If at night I were given 
to eat of hard white corn, or hard yellow or soft yellow, I could at once 
tell each from any of the others. If I were given mush at night made fromr 
these three varieties, each by itself, I could distinguish each variety, not 
by its smell, but in my mouth by taste. 

Meal made by pounding ripe hard white corn became thick and mushy 
when boiled in a pot. 

Tsi'di tapa', or soft yellow corn, was quite soft to pound when we made- 
meal of it ; and the boiled meal, or mush, seemed to contain a good deal of 
water in it — that is, it seemed thin and gruel-like when we came to eat it. 



66 



GILBERT LIVINGSTONE WILSON 



To pound tsi'di tso'ki, or hard yellow com, into meal took a long time; 
but when it had been pounded and the meal boiled into food, it was very 
good to eat and had an appetizing smell. 

Of the nine varieties I have named, the ata'ki, or soft wliite, was the 
earliest maturing. If seeds of all nine varieties were planted at the same 
time, the soft white would always be the first to ripen in the fall; and the 
tsi'di tso'ki, or hard yellow, wovdd be the last to ripen. 

Although the blue, light red, dark red, pink top, and soft white were all 
soft or flour corns, yet the soft white was the earliest to ripen. I reckon 
the soft white, also, to be the softest of all our varieties of com. 

I also rate the hard yellow and hard white as equal in value. Both 
are equally hard, and can not be pounded up into the fine flour or meal 
which we get from the soft varieties. 

The hard yellow and soft yellow we thought were the best varieties 
from which to prepare half-boiled dried corn for winter storing. The 





Figure 19 



Figure 20 



dark and light reds were also used, and if not quite so good, were but little 
inferior. Indeed, for half-boiled dried com, aU varieties were used, even 
the ma'ikadicakS, or giunm}-; but this last we did not think a good variety 
for this way of putting up com. Otir gummy corn had but one well recog- 
nized use ; it was good for parching to make corn balls. 

Fodder Yield 

I do not tiiink there was any perceptible difference in the fodder jaeld 
of the various races of com which we Hidatsas cultivated; but the fodder 
yield was always much heavier in rainy years. In a dry season, the stalks 
of the corn would be small and weak ; and the leaves would be smaller than 
in seasons of good rainfall. 



Developing New Varieties 

We Hidatsas knew that slightly differing varieties could be produced 
by planting seeds that varied somewhat from the main stock. A woman 
named Good Squash used to raise a variety of com that tasted just like 
soft white. This com had large swelling kernels with deep yellow, almost 
reddish, stripes running down the sides of the grain. We called it Adaka'- 



AGRICULTURE OF THE IIIDATSA IXDIAXS 67 

dahu-ita ko'xati, or Arikaras' corn, though it was not Arikara com at all. 
Good Squash's daughter, Hunts Water, lives on this reservation; she may 
have some of the seed of this variety. 

Sport Ears 
Names and Dcscn'plioii 

Quite often ears of corn appear that arc marked by some unusual fomi; 
and for the more marked of these forms, \vc had special names. Follow- 
ing are some of them: 

Na"ta-tawo'xi. From na"ta, grain; and tawo'xi, a name applied to 
youth, or the young, and conveying the idea of small. This is an ear of 
com having seventeen or eighteen rows of very small kernels. Our largest 
ears of corn had usually but fourteen rows of kernels of normal size. 

In the old legends of my tribe appear many women bearing this name 
Na"ta-tawo'xi. 

Wi'da-Aka'ta. From wi'da, goose; and aka'ta, roof of the mouth. 
This is an ear having two rows of corn on cither side, with vacant spaces 
on the cob between the double rows; often, toward the larger end of the 
ear, the two rows will expand into three. Goodbird has made a drawing 
of such an ear (figure 19j. A wi'da-aka'ta car, wc thought, looks like the 
roof of the mouth of a goose. 

I'ta-Ca'ca. Forked face, or cloven face; from i'ta, face. A kind of 
double ear. Goodbird has made a drawing of one (figure 20). 

Okci'jpita. From o'kS, or o'ki, head-ornament, plume; i'jpu, top; and 
i'ta, fruit. This is a small ear that sometimes appears at the top, on the 
tassel of the plant. 

Okei'jpita ears, if large enough, we gathered and put in with the rest 
of the harvest; but smaller ears of this kind, hardly worth threshing, we 
gathered and fed to our horses. Sometimes, if the harvesters were in haste, 
these ears were left in the field on the stalk; a pony was then led into the 
field to crop the ears. 

I'tica'kupadi. I'tica'kupadi, or muffled head; so called because the 
kernels come down and cover the face or bearded end of the cob quite to 
the point. We thought such an ear looked like a man with his head muffled 
up in his robe. 

Muffled-head ears were more numerous in good crop years than in 
poor years ; and we thought such ears, if otherwise well favored, made good 
seed com. 



CHAPTER V 

SQUASHES 

Planting Squashes 

Sprouting the Seed 

Squash seed was planted early in June; or the latter part of May and 
the first of June. 

In preparation for planting, we first sprouted the seed. 

I cut out a piece of tanned buffalo robe about two and a half feet long 
and eighteen inches wide, and spread it on the floor of the lodge, fur side up. 

I took red-grass leaves, wetted them, and spread them out flat, matted 
together in a thin layer on the fur. Then I opened my bag of squash seeds, 
and having set a bowl of water beside me, I wet the seeds in the water — 
not soaking them, just wetting — and put them on the matted grass leaves 
until I had a little pile heaped up, in quantity about two double-handfuls. 

I next took broad leaved sage, the kind we use in a sweat lodge, and 
buck brush leaves, and mixed them together. At squash planting time, 
the sage is about four inches high 

Into the mass of mixed sage-and-buck-brush leaves, I worked the wetted 
squash seeds, until they were distributed well through it. The mass I 
then laid on the grass matting, which I folded over and around it. Finally 
I folded the buffalo skin over that, making a package about fifteen by 
eighteen inches. We called this package kaku'i kida'kci, squash-thing- 
bound, or squash bundle. 

This squash bundle I hung on the drying pole near one of the posts. 
The bundle did not hang directly over the fire, but a little to one side. 
Sed si femina in domo menstrua erat, she should tell it so that the package 
of seeds could be removed to the next lodge, or they would spoil. 

After two days I took the bundle down and opened it. From a horn 
spoon I sipped a little tepid water into my mouth and blew it over the 
seeds. I took care that the water was neither too hot nor too cold, lest 
it kill the seeds. I rebound the bundle and hung it up again on the dry- 
ing pole. At the end of another day the seeds were sprouted nearly an inch 
and were ready to plant. 

I took a handftol of the grass-and-leaves, and from them separated the 
sprouted squash seeds. A wooden bowl had been placed beside me with a 
little moist earth in it. Into this bowl I put the seeds, sprinkling a little 
earth over them to keep them moist. I was now ready to begin plant- 
ing. 

68 



AGRICULTURE OF THE HIDATSA INDIANS 69 

Planting the Sprouted Seed 

Usually two or three women did the family planting, working together. 

One woman went ahead and with her hoe loosened up the ground for 
a space of about fifteen inches in diameter, for the hill. Care was taken 
that each hiU was made in the place where there had been a hill the year 
before. I am sure that in olden times we raised much better crops, because 
we were careful to do so ; using the same hill thus, each year, made the soil 
here soft and loose, so that the plants thrived. 

One woman, then, as I have said, with her hoe, loosened up the soil 
where an old hill had stood, and made a new hill, about fifteen inches in 
diameter at the base. Following her came another woman who planted the 
sprouted seeds. 

Four seeds were planted in each hill, in two pairs. The pairs should 
be about twelve inches apart, and the two seeds in each pair, a half inch 
apart. The seeds were planted rather under, or on one side of the hill, 
and about two inches deep in the soil. A careful woman planted the seeds 
with the sprouts upright ; but even if she did not do this, the sprouts grew 
quickly and soon appeared through the soil. 

We had a reason for planting the squash seeds in the side of the hill. 
The squash sprouts were soft, tender. If we planted them in level ground 
the rains would beat down the soil, and it would pack hard and get some- 
what crusted, so that the sprouts could not break through; but if we planted 
the sprouts on the side of the hill, the water from the rains would flow over 
them and keep the soil soft. Likewise, we did not plant the sprouted seeds 
on the top of the hill because here too the rain was apt to beat the soil 
down hard. 

We Indian women helped one another a good deal in squash planting; 
especially would we do turns with our relatives. If I got behind with my 
planting, some of my relatives, or friends from another family, would 
come and help me. When a group of relatives thus labored together, four 
women commonly went ahead making the liills, and two women followed, 
planting the sprouted seeds. 

Harvesting, the Sqttashes 

The squash harvest began a little before green com came in. It was 
our custom to pick squashes every fourth morning ; and the fourth picking — 
twelve days after the first picking — brought us to green com time. 

The first picking was, naturally, not ver}' large — three or four basket- 
fuls, I tliink, in my father's fatnily; and these we ate ourselves. The 
basket used for bringing in the squashes was about fifteen inches across 
the mouth and eleven inches deep. 



70 GILBERT LIVINGSTONE WILSON 

The second picking was about ten basketfuls, enough for us to eat and 
spare a little surplus to our neighbors. After this each picking increased 
until a maximum was reached, and then the pickings decreased in size. 
The fifth or sixth picking was usually the largest. 

The pickings were made before sunrise. In my father's family, one of 
my mothers and I usually attended to the actual picking. It was her 
habit to get up early in the morning, go to the field and pluck the squashes 
from the vines, piling them up in one place in the garden. She returned 
then to the lodge; and after the morning meal, the rest of us women of 
the household went out and fetched the squashes home in our baskets. 

Squashes grow fast, and unless we picked them every four days, we 
did not think them so good for food. Moreover, squashes that were four 
days old we could slice for drying, knowing that the slices would be firm 
enough to retain their shape unbroken. If the squashes were plucked 
greener, the slices broke, or crumbled. 

We could tell when a squash was fovir days old. Its diameter then was 
about three and a quarter inches; some a little more, some a little less; 
but we chiefly judged by the color of the fruit. A white squash should 
just have rid itself of green; a green colored squash should have its color 
a dark green. We could judge quite accurately thus, by the state of the 
colors. 

The hills yielded some three, some two, some only one squash at a 
picking. I have made as many as six trips to our family garden for the 
squashes of a single picking; our garden was distant as far as from here to 
Packs Wolf's cabin — three quarters of a mile. 

We picked a good many squashes in a season. One year my mother 
fetched in seventy baskets from our field. I have known families to bring 
in as many as eight3% or even a hundred baskets, in a season. 

The baskets, as they were brought in, were borne up on the drying 
stage, and the squashes emptied out on the floor for slicing and drying; 
squashes not cooked and eaten fresh were sliced and dried for winter, 
excepting those saved for seed. 

Slicing the Squaslics 

Slicing squashes for drying began about the third picking. Sometimes, 
in good years, a few squashes might be sliced at the second picking; but at 
the third picking, slicing and drying began in earnest. 

When the squashes, emptied from the baskets, made a great heap on the 
floor of the drying stage, the women of the family made a feast, cooking 
much food for the purpose ; some old women were then invited to come and 
cut up the squashes with knives, into slices to dry. We regarded these 
old women as hired; and I remember that in my father's famih' wc hired 



AGRICULTURE OF THE III DATS. 'I INDIAXS 71 

sometimes eight, sometimes ten, sometimes only sLx. I think that at the 
time I was a young woman, when my mothers made such a feast, about 
ten old women came. 

These old women ascended the drying stage, and sat, five on either side 
of the pile of squashes. Each of the old women had a squash knife in her 
hand, made of the thin part of the shoulder bone of a buffalo, if it was an 
old-fashioned one; butcher knives of steel are now used. 

The squashes were cut thus : 

An old woman would draw a robe up over her lap, as she sat Indian 
fashion, with ankles to the right, on the floor of the stage. She took a 
squash in her left hand, and with her bone knife in her right, she sliced the 
squash into slices about three eighths of an inch thick. 

The squash was sliced from side to side, not from stem to blossom. 
An old woman slicing squash would take up a squash, cut out the stem 
pit and the blossom, then turn the squash sidewise and slice, beginning 
on the side nearest her. The cut was made by pressing the bone blade 
downward into the squash as the latter lay in her palm. 

The first three slices and the last three of a large squash; or the first 
two and the last two of a smaller squash, the old woman put beside her in 
a pile, as her earnings for her work; upon this pile also went any squash 
thought too small to be worth slicing. 

These end slices wc thought less valuable than those from the middle 
of the squash; and unlike the latter, they were not spitted on willow sticks, 
but were taken home by the old woman worker in her blanket, or her robe, 
or in something else in which she could carry them. About three saclcs 
of these inferior slices would be earned home at one time by an old woman 
worker. 

These less valuable slices being cut close to the rind were of solid flesh. 
The better slices had each a hollow in the center, caused by the seed cavity. 
The old women did not spit tlicir solid slices on willows, but dried them on 
the ground, carefully guarding them against rain; for if wet, the drying 
slices would spoil. 

Sqiiasli Spits 

All the better slices, the ones to be retained by the famil}- that hired 
the old women workers, were spitted on willow rods to drj-. 

These rods we called kaku'iptsa; from kaku'i, squash; and i'ptsa, spit, 
stringer. The word may be translated squash spit. 

Squash spits were usually made of the small willows that wc call mi'da 
hatsihi'ci, or red willow; from mi'da, wood; and hi'ci, light red. When 
the outer skin of one's finger, for example, is peeled off, the color of the 
flesh beneath we call hi'ci. This red willow however is not kinikinik, 
which white men call red wUlow. 



72 GILBERT LIVINGSTONE WILSON 

A squash spit should be about half an inch in diameter; and its length 
should be measured from the center of my chest to the end of my index 
finger, as I do now; or about two feet, six, or two feet, seven inches. 

A spit was sharpened at one end to a point. At the other end there was 
left about an inch of the natural bark like a button, to keep the squash 
slices from slipping oft. The rest of the rod was peeled bare. 

Small Ankle used to make our drying spits for us. He cut the rods in 
June or early July when the bark peeled off easily; he peeled off the bark 
with his teeth. 

It was his habit to cut quite a number of rods at a time and after peeling 
them, he would tie them up in a bundle of about three hundred rods, so 
that they woiild dry straight — would not warp, I mean, in drying. 

In seasons when they were not in use our squash spits were made into 
a bundle as big as I could hold in my two arms and bound about with two 
thongs. The bundle was stored away on the floor of the lodge, under the 
eaves, or in the atu'ti, as we called the space under the descending roof. 
The next year, in harvest time, the bundle was unbound and the spits ex- 
amined to see if any had warped. Such warped ones were thrown away, 
and new ones were made to take their places. 

Spitting the Slices 

Each of the old women hired to slice our squashes worked with a pile 
of these squash spits beside her; and as she sliced a squash she laid aside 
those slices which she retained as her pay; and taking the others up in her 
right hand, she spitted them with a single thrust, upon one of the willow 
spits. The spitted slices were then separated about a half inch apart, so 
that the first two fingers of the hand could be thrust astraddle the spit 
between each slice and its neighbor. This was to give the slices air to dry. 

One willow spit held the slices of four squashes, and two slices from a 
fifth squash, if the squashes were of average size. 

Sometimes an old woman brought her granddaughter along to help her, 
the little girl spitting the slices as her grandmother cut them. 

Drj'ing rods, which I have already described, were laid across the upper 
rails of the stage; and each spit as it was loaded was laid with either end 
resting on a drying rod. The spits were laid with a certain method. Each 
projecting end bore two squash slices, which acted as a button to stay the 
spit from being blown down by the wind. 

As the drying rods rested transversely on the upper rails, the spits 
which the rods bore lay parallel with the rails, and therefore lengthwise 
with the stage. The spits were laid with the heavier, or bark covered 
end toward the front, or ladder end of the stage, which in our family, was 
the right, as one came out of the lodge door. 




Owl Woman putting squash slices on a spit 




Squash slices drying 
Are on squash spits and on stage built to resemble the top of an old time corn stage. 



AGRICULTURE OF THE HIDATSA INDIANS 73 

When a pair of drying rods was quite filled with these loaded spits, they 
made what we called one i'tsaki — one walking stick, or one staff. We 
counted the quantity of squash we dried as so many staves. 

We never laid the loaded spits on the floor of the stage, as the weight 
of the load caused the drying squash slices to warp, thus making them hard 
to handle. 

In Case of Rain 

If a sudden rain came up the day we began drj^ing squash, we felt no 
concern, for the slices having just been cut, were still green and would not 
be harmed. 

But if rain threatened the second da}-, or thereafter, we women ran up 
on the stage and drew the loaded spits toward the middle of the drying 
rods; and over them we spread hides, upon which we laid poles, or tmuscd 
drying rods to weight the hides against the wind. Sometimes we even 
lashed the poles down with thongs. 

If the drying squash got wet after the first day, the slices swelled up, 
and the fruit spoiled. 

Drying and Storing 

When the squash slices had dried for two days, two women of the family 
went up on the stage; and working, one from the front, the other from the 
rear end of the stage, they took the spits one by one, and with thumb and 
fingers of each hand slipped the drying slices into the middle of the spit, 
thus loosening them from it; and for the same purpose, the spit itself was 
turned and twisted around as it lay skewered through the slices. When 
well loosened, the squash slices were again spaced apart as before, a:id 
the spit was replaced on the rods, to be left for another day. On the 
evening of the third day the slices were dry enough to string. 

The strings, three to six in number, had been prepared from dry grass. 
Each string was seven Indian fathoms long; we Hidatsas measure a fathom 
as the distance between a woman's two outstretched hands. Each grass 
string had a wooden needle about ten inches long, bound to one end. 

All the slices on one spit were now slid off and the worker by a single 
thrust skewered the wooden needle through them and slid them down the 
long string to the farther end; this end of the string was now looped back 
and tied just above the first three or four slices of the dried squash that 
fell down the string; doing thus made these slices act as a button or anchor 
to prevent the rest of the squash slices from slipping off the string. 

In stringing the squash slices, the spit was held in the right hand, the 
left hand straddling the spit with the index and second fingers. The slices 
were slid down the spit toward the right hand, the spit being then drawn out 
and cast away. The squash slices were held firmly in the first two fingers 



74 GILBERT LIVINGSTONE WILSON 

and thumb of the left hand and the needle was run through the hole 
left by withdrawing the spit. As the spit had a greater diameter than 
the grass string, the slices easily slid down the string. 




Figure 2 1 

When stringing slices of squash inyself , I always sat on the floor of the 
drying stage with a pile of loaded spits at my left side. As I unloaded a 
spit, I dropped it at my right side. The grass string hung over the edge 
of the stage floor, on the side nearest the lodge. On the ground below I 
had spread some scraped hides, so that the squash slices, falling down the 
string, would not touch the ground and become soiled. 

When a string became full, I tossed the end over the edge of the floor, 
letting it fall down upon the heap on the scraped hides. 

The needle used to skewer the slices was bound to the end of the grass 
string two inches or more from its extremity, as shown in figure 21. When 
the string was filled, one had but to turn the needle athwart, and it became 
a button or anchor, preventing the slices from slipping off. 

The strings filled with dried squash slices, were now taken into the 
lodge. Between the right front main post of the lodge and the circle of 
outer posts and near the puncheon fire screen at the place it bent in toward 
the wall, a stage had been built. Two forked posts, about as high as my 
head, supported a pole ten or twelve feet long; and over this pole the strings 
of squash were looped, care being taken that they hung at a height to let the 
dogs run under without touching and contaminating the squash. I speak 
of the right front main post ; I use right and left in the Indian sense, which 
assumes that an earth lodge faces the doorway ; the door indeed is the lodge's 
mouth. 

On sunny days these strings were taken outside. Several of the long 
poles, or drying rods, already described, were brought down from the top 
of the stage and lashed to the outside of the stage posts on either side. 
If the har\^est was a good one, a row of these rods might extend the whole 
length of either side of the stage, and even around the ends. On the rail- 
ing thus made the squash strings were taken out and hung on a fair day ; in 
the morning, on the east side; in the afternoon, on the west side of the stage. 

On wet days, the squash strings were left inside the lodge; and if the 
rain was falling heavily, a tent skin, or scraped rawhides, dried and ready 



AGRICULTURE OF THE IIIDATSA INDIANS 75 

to tan, were thrown over them to protect from dampness. The air in 
the lodge was damp on a rainy day; and sometimes the roof leaked. 

When the strings of squash were thought to be thoroughly dried, they 
were ready for storing. A portion was packed in parfleche bags, to be taken 
to the winter lodge, or to be used for food on journeys. The rest was stored 
away in a cache pit, covered with loose corn. 

Several seasons, as I recollect, the women of my father's family were 
a month harvesting and drying their squashes. 

Squash Blossoms 

Besides our squashes, we also gathered squash blossoms, three to five bas- 
ketfuls at a picking; and they were a recognized part of our squash harvest. 

On every squash vine are blossoms of two kinds; one kind bears a squash, 
but the other never bears any fruit, for it grows, as we Indians say, at 
the wrong place among the leaves. We Indians knew this, and gathered 
only these ban^en blossoms; if we did not they dried up anyway and be- 
came a dead loss, so we always gathered them. 

These blossoms we picked in early morning while they were fresh, but 
not if rain had fallen in the night, as the rain splashed dirt and sand into 
the blossoms, making them unfit for food. 

The blossoms we took home in baskets. On the prairie there is a kind 
of grass which we Indians call "antelope hair." We chose a place where 
this grass grew thick and was two or three inches high, to dry the blossoms 
on. They were taken out of the basket one by one ; the green calj'x leaves 
were stripped off and the blossom was pinched flat, opened, and spread on 
the grass, with the inside of the blossom upward, thus exposing it t^_ the 
sun and air. A second blossom was split on one side, opened, and laid 
upon the first, upon the petal end, so that the thicker, bulbous part of the 
first — the part indeed that had been pinched flat — remained exposed to 
dry. This was continued until quite a space on the grass was co\-cred 
with the blossoms. 

They remained all day dr}-ing. In the evening I would go out and 
gather them, pulling them up in whole sheets. Splitting them open and 
laying them down one upon another, caused them to adhere as they dried, 
so that they lay on the grass in a kind of thin matting. I always begaii 
pulling up the blossoms from one side of this matting, and as I say, they 
came away in whole sheets. 

We put away the dried blossoms in bags, like those used for com. These 
bags were made with round bottom and soft-skin mouth that tied easily. 
Bags were usually made of calf skin. 

In my father's family we always put away one sack full of dried squash 
blossoms for winter. 



76 



GILBERT LIVINGSTONE WILSON 



Cooking and Uses of Squash 




The First Squashes 

The first squashes of the season that we plucked were about three inches 
in diameter; that is, they were gathered as soon as we thought they were 
fit for cooking; and that same day we picked blossoms also. 

There might be three or four basketfuls of squashes at this first picking. 
These squashes we did not dry, but ate fresh; as they were the first 

vegetables of the season, we were eager 
to eat them. We cooked fresh squashes 
as follows: 

Boiling Fresh Squash in a Pot. I 
took a clay pot of oiu- native manufac- 
ture, partly filled it with fresh squashes 
and added water. The smaller squashes 
I put in whole; larger ones I cut in two. 
I did not remove the seeds; left in the 
squash they made it taste sweeter. 

I now took big leaves of the sun- 
flower and thrust them, stem upward, 
between the squashes and the sides of 
the pot ; the leaves then stood in a circle 
around the inside of the pot, with the 
upper surface of each leaf inward. I 
added more squashes until the pot was 
quite full, even heaping. The sunflower leaves I then bent inward, fold- 
ing them naturally over the squashes. I now set the pot on the fire. 

Under my direction Goodbird has made a sketch of a pot of fresh 
squashes (figure 22) ; the sunflower leaves are placed and ready to be folded 
down. 

Squashes thus prepared were boiled a little longer than beef is boiled. 
The sunflower leaves were put over the pot merely as a lid or covering. 
It is hard to cook squashes without a cover, and this was our way of pro- 
viding one. Blossoms were not added when squashes were thus prepared. 
When the cooking was done, the green sunflower leaves, used as a 
cover, were removed with a stick, and thrown away. 

I had a bowl of cold water near by. I dipped my hand into the water 
and lifted out the squash pieces one by one, and laid them on a bowl or 
dish. The cold water protected my hand ; for the squashes were quite hot. 
Most of the water in the pot had boiled out, only a little being left in 
the bottom of the pot. The pieces of squash immersed in this hot water 
I lifted out with a horn spoon. Not much water was ever put in the pot 
anyhow, for it was the steam mostly that cooked the squashes. The pot 



Figure 22 
Redrawn from sketch by Gooilbird. 



AGRICULTURE OF THE IIIDATSA INDIANS 77 

was quite heaped with squashes at the first, but the cooking reduced the 
bulk, making the heap go down. 

The squash pieces in the bottom of the pot were apt to be a little burned 
or browned; and so were made sweeter, and were verj' good to eat. 

This was the way we cooked fresh squashes in my father's family until 
I was eighteen years old; at that time we got an iron dinner pot, and began 
to boil our food in it instead of the old fashioned clay pot. 

Fresh squashes, to be at their best, should be cooked on the day they 
are picked; left over to the next day they never taste so good. 

Squashes Boiled with Blossoms. Fresh squashes were sometimes boiled 
with fresh blossoms and fats. Sunflower leaves were not then used as a 
covering. Squashes so cooked were usually small; and when done, they 
were lifted out of the pot with a horn spoon. Cooking this mess was really 
by boUing, not steaming, as in the mess above described. 

Other Blossom Messes 

When I wanted to cock fresh squash blossoms, I plucked 
them early in the morning, stripping them of the little points, 
or spicules shown as a. a', and a" in figure 23. These spicules 
I stripped backward, or downward. I do not know why we 
did this; it was our custom. Then I broke the blossom off 
the stem at the place in the figure marked with a dotted line. 
The green bulbous part of the blossom I crushed or pinched be- 
tween my thumb and finger, to make it soft and hasten cook- 
ing; for the yellow, blossom part soon cooked. Figure 23 

I will now give you recipes for some messes made with 
these fresh, crushed, spicule-stripped blossoms; however, dried blossoms 
were often used in these messes instead, and were just as good. 

Boiled Blossoms. A little water was brought to boil in a clay pot. A 
handful of blossoms, either fresh or dried, was tossed into the pot and stirred 
with a stick. They shrttnk up quite small, and another handful of blos- 
soms was tossed in. This was continued until a small basketful of the 
blossoms had been stin-ed into the pot. 

Into this a handful of fat was thrown, or a little bone grease was poured 
in ; and the mess was let boil a little longer than meat is boiled, and a little 
less than fresh squash is boiled. The mess was then ready to eat. ,^^^ 

Blossoms Boiled itnih Mqdqpo'zi Fii'a. Madapo'zi i'ti'a was made, 
the pot being put on the fire in the early afternoon and boiled for the rest 
of the day. In the night following the fire would go out and the mess 
would get cold. 

In the morning the pot was set on the fire again, and if I was going to 
use fresh blossoms I went out to the field to gather them, expecting to 




78 GILBERT LIVINGSTONE WILSON 

return and find the pot heated and ready. The newly gathered blossoms, 
crushed as described, I dropped in the rewarmed mess, and boiled for half 
an hour, when the pot was taken off, and the mess was served. 

Sometimes this mess was further varied by adding beans. 

Blossoms Boiled with Mdpi' Nakapa'. The blossoms were first boiled. 
Meal of pounded parched com and fats were then added and the whole 
was boiled for half an hour. 

Like the previous mess, this was sometimes varied by adding beans. 

Seed Squashes 

Selecting for Seed 

Seed squashes were chosen at the first or second picking of the season. 
At these pickings, as we went from hill to hill plucking the four-days-old 
squashes, we observed what ones appeared the pluinpest and finest; and 
these we left on the vine to be saved for seed. We never chose more than 
one squash in a single hill; and to mark where it lay, and even more, to 
protect it from frost, we were careful to piill up a weed or two, or break 
off a few squash leaves and lay them over the squash; and thus protected, 
it was left on the vine. 

There was a good deal of variety in our squashes. Some were round, 
some rather elongated, some had a flattened end; some were dark, some 
nearly white, some spotted; some had a purple, or yellow top. We did 
not recognize these as different strains, as we did the varieties of com; 
and when I selected squashes for seed, I did not choose for color, but for 
size and general appearance. Squashes of different colors grew in the same 
hill; and all varieties tasted exactly alike. 

In later pickings, while we continued to gather the four-days-old squashes 
we did not distiu-b the seed squashes. 'They were easily avoided, for if 
not plainly marked by the leaves I have said we laid over them, they could 
be recognized by their greater size, and their rough rind. A four-days-old 
squash is smaller and has a smoother rind than a mature squash. 

Gathering the Seed Squashes 

The time for plucking the seed squashes was after we had gathered the 
first ripe com, but had not j'et gathered our seed corn. It was our custom to 
pluck our com until the first frost fell; then to gather our seed squashes; and 
afterwards oiu- seed corn. Some years the first frost fell very early, before 
we had plucked our first com ; in such seasons we gathered our seed squashes 
first, for we never let them lie in the field after the first frost had set in. 

On this reservation the first frost falls at the end of the moon follow- 
ing this present moon. We Indians call the present moon the wild cherry 



AGRICULTURE OF THE IIIDATSA I.\D1A\S 79 

moon, because June berries ripen in the first half, and choke-cherries in the 
second half of the moon; and we reckon June berries as a kind of cherry. 
Our next moon we call the harvest moon; and in it wild plums ripen and 
the first frost falls. 

The seed squashes when plucked, were all taken into the earth lodge 
and laid in a pile, on a bench. The bench was made of planks split from 
Cottonwood trunks, laid lengthwise with the lodge wall. The squashes 
were piled in a heap on this bench; they were bigger than four-days-old 
squashes and their rinds were rougher and hard, like a shell. 

Cooking the Ripe Squashes 

When now we wanted to have squash for a meal, I went over to this 
heap of ripe seed squashes and brought a number over near the fire. There 
I broke them open, carefully saving the seeds. I would lay a squash on 
the floor of the lodge; with an elk horn scraper I would strike the squash 
smart blows on the side, splitting it open. 

The broken half rinds I piled up one above another, concave side down, 
until ready to put them in the pot. Ripe squashes were less delicate than 
green four-days-old squashes, and did not spoil so quickly. 

I was able to boil about ten ripe squashes in our family pot ; but it took 
three such cookings of ten squashes each to make a mess for our family, 
which I have said was a large one. We boiled these ripe squashes like the 
four-days-old, in a very little water. 

Saving the Seed 

Always near the fireplace in out lodge there lay a piece of scraped hide 
about two feet square. It had many uses. When boiling meat we would 
lift the steaming meat from the pot and lay it on the hide before serving. 
Wc also used the hide for a drying cloth. 

This piece of hide I drew near me when I was breaking ripe squashes; 
and as I removed the seeds I laid them in a pile on the hide. Squash seeds, 
freshly removed from the squash, are moist and mixed with more or less 
pulpy matter. To remove this pulp I took up a small handful of the fresh 
seeds, laid a dry com cob in my palm and alternately squeezed and opened 
my hand over the mess. The porous surface of the cob absorbed the mois- 
ture and sucked up the pulpy matter, thus cleansing the seeds. As the 
cleansed seeds fell back upon the hide I took up another handful and 
repeated the process. 

If there was a warm autumn sun, I often carried the hide with the 
cleansed seeds upon it, and laid it on the floor of the drying stage out- 
side for the seeds to dry; but if the day was chill or winter had set in, I 
dried the seeds by the fire. 



80 GILBERT LIVINGSTONE WILSON 

When quite dried, the seeds were put in a skin sack to be stored in a 
cache pit. The storing bag was often the whole skin of a bufialo calf, 
with only the neck left open for a mouth; or it might be made of a small 
fawn skin; or it might be made of a piece of old tent cover and shaped like 
a cylinder. 

Eating the Seeds 

Sometimes we boiled ripe squashes whole, seeds and all; and we then 
ate the seeds. They tasted something like peanuts. 

These seeds of boiled squashes were eaten just as they came from the 
squash. I would take up two or three seeds in my mouth, crushing 
them with my teeth; and with my tongue I would separate the kernels 
from the shells which I spat out. I was rather fond of squash seeds. 

I have also heard of families who prepared squash seeds by parching 
or roasting; but I never did this myself. 

Roasting Ripe Squashes 

I have heard that in old days my tribe used to roast fall-kept ripe 
squashes. They were bviried in the ashes and roasted whole. I never 
did this myself, however. 

There is a story that an old man who was blind, was handed a squash 
thus roasted. He found the squash to his liking, but did not know how it 
had been cocked. 

"Girl," he cried, "let me have the broth this was boiled in!" 

"The squash was roasted in the ashes; it has no broth," answered the 
girl who had handed it to him. 

The blind man laughed. "I thought it was boiled in a pot," he said. 

I judge from this story that several squashes had been roasted, and 
that the blind man got one as his share. 

Storing the Unused Seed Squashes 

It was our custom to remove to our winter village in the mida'-paxi'di 
widi'c, or leaf-turn-yellow moon; it corresponds about to October. I re- 
member the leaves used to be falling from the trees while we were working 
about our winter lodges, getting ready for cold weather. 

When moving time came in the fall, any squashes left over in the lodge, 
uneaten, were stored in a cache pit until spring. But it was a difficult 
thing to store these squashes so that thej' would keep sound; and when 
spring came many of them would be found to have rotted. Some families 
were more careful in making ready and storing their cache pits than were 
others. Squashes kept best when stored in carefully prepared pits. 



AGRICULTURE OF THE IIIDATSA INDIANS 81 

On the family's return the next spring the cache pit was opened; and 
the squashes that had kept sound could be used for cooking, and their 
seeds could be planted. The number thus stored over winter was not 
large. 

The seeds of rotted squashes were just as good to plant as were the 
seeds of the sound squashes. 

We carried no squash seeds with us to our winter village. For our 
spring planting we depended on the seed we had left stored in the cache 
in our summer lodge, in my father's family. 

The seeds of a ripe squash are swelled and plump in the center; 
those of a four-days-old squash are flat. We could tell in this way if 
squash seeds were ripe. 

Sqnasltcs, Present Seed 

I grew our native squashes in my son Goodbird's garden until four 
years ago. I stopped cultivating them because my son's family did not 
seem to care to eat them. Last year a squash vine came' up wild in ma- 
son's garden. The squashes that grew on it were of two colors. I saved 
some of the seed and planted them this year. It is from their yield that I 
have given you seed. 

As I have said, squashes were of different colors and varied a good deal 
in shape; yet we recognized but one strain of seed. "We plant but one 
kind of seed," we said, "and all colors and shapes grow from it, dark, white, 
purple, round, elongated." 

Squash Dolls 

There is one other thing I will tell before we forsake the subject of 
squashes. Little girls of ten or eleven years of age used to make dolls of 
squashes. 

When the squashes were brought in from the field, the little girls would 
go to the pile and pick out squashes that were proper for dolls. I have 
done so, myself. We used to pick out the long ones that were parti-colored; 
squashes whose tops were white or yellow and the bottoms of some other 
color. We put no decorations on these squashes that we had for dolls. 
Each little girl carried her squash about in her arms and sang for it as for 
a babe. Often she carried it on her back, in her calf skin robe. 



CHAPTER VI 

BEANS 
Planting Beans 

Bean planting followed immediately after squash planting. 

Beans were planted in hills the size and shape of squash hills, or about 
seven by fourteen inches; but if made in open ground the hills were not 
placed so far apart in the row. Squash hills, like com hills, stood about 
four feet apart in the row, measuring from center to center; but bean hills 
might be placed two feet or less in the row. 

Beans, however, were very commonly planted not in open ground, but 
between our rows of com; the hills were arranged as shown in diagram 
(figure 8, page 25). 

Com hills, I have said, stood four feet, or a little less in the row, and the 
rows were about four feet apart,* when corn was planted by itself. But if 
beans were to be planted between, the corn rows were placed a little farther 
apart, to make room for the bean hills. 

Putting in the Seeds 

To make a hill for beans, I broke up and loosened the soil with my hoe, 
scraping awa}' the dry top soil; the hill I then made of the soft, slighth' 
moist under-soil. The hill, as suggested by the measurements, was rather 
elongated. 

I took beans, three in each hand, held in thmnb and first two fingers, 
and buried them in a side of the hill, two inches deep, by a simultaneous 
thrust of each hand, as I stooped o\ev\ the two groups of seeds were six 
inches apart. 

I have heard that some families planted four seeds in each group, in- 
stead of three; but I always put in three seeds and think that the better 
way. Figure 24 will explain the two ways of planting. 

I am not sure that I know just why we planted beans always in the side 
of the hill; I have said we planted squash thus because the sprouted seeds 
were tender and the soil in the side of the hill did not bake hard after a 
rain. Also, we were careful not to make our bean hills too large, as the 
heavy rains turned the soft soil into mud which Iseat down over the vines, 
killing them. 

1 Measuring from center of corn hill to center of next corn hill. — G. L. W. 

82 



AGRICULTURE OF THE IIIDATSA INDIANS 



83 



Hoeing and Cultivating 

These subjects I have sufficicnlly described, I think, when I told you 
how we hoed and cultivated corn. 




TInxsliing 

Threshing was in the fall, after the beans had ripened and the pods were 
dead and dried. Sometimes, when the weather had been favorable, the 
bean vines were quite dry and could be threshed the same day they were 
gathered. But if the weather was a little damp, or if, as was usually the 
case, the vines were still a little green, they had to be dried a day or two 
before they could be tlireshed. 

To prepare for this labor, I went out into the field and pulled up all the 
com stalks in a space four or five yards 
in diameter; this was for a drying place. 

I pulled up the vines of one bean hill 
and transferred them to my left hand, 
where I held them by the roots ; I gather- 
ed another bunch of bean vines in my 
right hand, as many as I could conven- 
iently carry; and I took these vines, 
borne in my two hands, to the drying 
place, and laid thein on the ground, roots 
up, spreading them out a little. I thus 
worked until I had pulled up all the vines 
that grew near the drying place. 

I made several such drying places, 
as the need required; and on them I put all the bean vines to dry. 

At the end of about three days, when the vines were dry I took out 
into the field half of an old tent cover and laid it on the ground in an open 
space made by clearing away the com stalks. This tent cover, so laid, was 
to be my threshing floor. 

We never laid this tent cover at the edge of the field on the grass, be- 
cause in threshing the vines, some of the beans would fly up and fall outside 
the tent cover, on the ground. We always picked these stray beans up care- 
fully, after threshing. This could not be doneif we threshed on the gra.ss. 

My threshing floor ready, I took up some of the dry vines and laid them 
on the tent cover in a heap, about three feet high. I got upon this heap 
with my moccasined feet and smartly trampled it, now and then standing 
on one foot, while I shuffled and scraped the other over the dn- vines; 
this was done to shake the beans loose from their pods. 

When the vines were pretty well trampled I pushed them over two or 
tlirec feet lo one side of the tent cover; and having fetched fresh vines, 1 



Fit^ure 24 
ReLir.i\vn from sketch by Goodbird. 



84 GILBERT LIVINGSTONE WILSON 

made another heap about three feet high, which also I trampled and pushed 
aside. When I had trampled three or four heaps in this manner I was readj^ 
to beat them. 

We preferred to tread out our beans thus, because beating them with 
a stick made the seeds fly out in all directions upon the ground; when the 
vines were trampled, this would not happen. However, after the tread- 
ing was over, there were always a few unopened pods still clinging to the 
vines; and to free the beans from these pods, we beat the vines at the end 
of every three or four treadings. 

This beating I did with a stick, about the size of the stick used as a flail 
in threshing corn. 

I always threshed my beans on a windy day if possible, so that I might 
winnow them immediately after the threshing. If the wind died down, I 
covered over the threshed beans and waited until the wind came up again. 
A small carrying basket or a wooden bowl, was used to winnow with. 

After the beans were winnowed, they were dried one more day, either 
on a tent cover in the garden, or at home on a skin placed on the ground 
near the drying stage. At the end of this day's drying, they were ready 
to be packed in sacks. 

Our bean harvests varied a good deal from year to year; in my father's 
family, from as little as half a sack, to as much as three barrels. The big- 
gest harvest our family ever put up, that I remember, was equivalent to 
about three barrelfuls. Of course we did not use barrels in those days. 

Bean threshing never lasted long; it was work that could be done rapidly. 

Gathering up the vines, threshing, and winnowing took about a day 
and a half; the actual threshing lasted only about half a day. But this 
does not take into account the time the vines and the threshed beans lay 
drying. 

I remember that one year, when our crop was of good size, for the whole 
work of threshing and labor of getting our bean crop in, I spent but three 
days. In this time I had gathered up the vines, threshed them, and win- 
nowed the threshed beans. 

However, the time necessary for these labors varied much with the 
crop, the weather, and the greenness of the vines. 

Varieties 
There were five varieties of beans in common use in my tribe, as follows: 

Ama'ca ci'pica . . . Black bean 

Ama'ca hi'ci .... Red bean 

Ama'ca pu'xi . . . Spotted bean 

Ama'ca ita' wina'ki matu'hica Shield-figured bean 

Ama'ca ata'ki . . . White bean 



AGRICULTURE OF THE IIIDATSA INDIANS 85 

These varieties we planted, each by itself; and each kind, again, was 
kept separate in threshing; also, only beans of the same variety were put 
in one bag for storing. Black, red, white, shield-figured, spotted, each 
had a separate bag. 

Besides the foregoing varieties, there were some families who raised a 
variety of yellow beans. I once planted some seed of this variety, but did 
not find that they bred very true to color; I do not know if this was be- 
cause I did not get very good seed. 

I do not think these yellow beans were in use in my tribe in very old 
times. Whether they were imported to us by white men, or, as seems likely, 
were brought from other tribes, I do not know. 

The white beans now raised in this part of the reservation, seed of which 
you have purchased, is from white man's stock. The seed was brought to 
us, I think, when I was a little girl, or about si.\ty years ago. But we 
Hidatsas and Mandans had white beans before this. The two strains are 
easily distinguished. In the white man's variety, the eye is a little sunken 
in the seed. In the native white beans, the eye is on a level with the body 
of the bean. 

Selecting Seed Beans 

In the spring, when I came to plant beans, I was very careful to select 
seed for the following points : seed should be fully ripe ; seed should be of 
full color; seed should be plump, and of good size. 

If the red was not a deep red, or the black a deep black, I knew the 
seed was not fully ripe, and I would reject it. So also of the white, the 
spotted, and the shield-figured. 

Did I learn from white men thus to select seed? (Laughing heartily, "l 
No, this custom comes down to us from very old times. We were always 
taught to select seed thus, in my tribe. 

White men do not seem to know very much about raising beans. Our 
school teacher last year raised beans in a field near the school-house; and 
when harvest time came, he tried to pluck the pods directly into a basket, 
without treading or threshing the vines. I think it would take him a very 
long time to harvest his beans in that manner. 

Cooking and Uses 

Of the several varieties, I like to eat black beans best. Especially I like 
to use black beans in making ma'dakapa. However, all the other kinds 
were good.- 

3 "I have raised white beans mostly of late years because it is easier to sell them to white men. This 
summer, however (1913), I planted several acres also to other kinds of our Hidatsa beans, red, black, 
spotted. 

"I find that the black beans have yielded best, next the red. then the spotted, last of all the white. 
I have observed before that this is true; that black beans yield the most." — Wolf Chief 



S6 GILBERT LIVINGSTONE WILSON 

I have already described to you some of the dishes we made, and still 
make, with beans. Following are some messes I have not described: 

Ama'ca Di'he, or Beans-Boiled. The beans were boiled in a clay pot, 
with a piece of biiffalo fat, or some bone grease. If the beans were dried 
beans, they were boiled a little longer than squash is boiled — a half hour or 
more. Spring salt, or other seasoning, was not used. 

Green beans, shelled from the pod, were sometimes prepared thus, 
boiled with buffalo fat or bone grease; but green beans did not have to 
be boiled quite as long as dried beans. 

Green Beans Boiled in the Pod. Green beans in the pod we boiled and 
ate as a vegetable from the time they came in until fall; but we did not 
plant beans, as we did corn, to make them come in late in the season, that 
we might then eat them green. 

Green beans in the pod were boiled in a clay pot, with a little fat thrown 
in. Pods and seeds were eaten together. 

But a green bean pod has in it two little strings that are not very good 
to eat. At meal time the boiled pod was taken up in the fingers and car- 
ried to the eater's mouth. At one end of the pod is always a kind of little 
hook; the unbroken pod was taken into the mouth with this little hook 
forward, between the teeth; and the eater, seizing the little hook between 
thumb and finger, drew it out of his mouth with the two little strings that 
were always attached to the hook. 

Green Corn and Beans. Pounded green shelled com was often boiled 
with green beans, shelled from the pod. 



CHAPTER VII 
STORING FOR WINTER 
TIic Cache Pit 

We stored our corn, beans, sunflower seed and dried squash in caciic 
pits for the winter, much as white people keep vegetables in their cellars. 



eB.rth 






atShes 

»- ar\d. 

refuse 
^ycircula.r skiii 



cover ji, yi »;■;>;•;'/• I-.--' ; ". '/; a 




Figure 25 
Redrawn from sketch by Goodbird. 

A cache pit was shaped somewhat like a jug, with a narrow neck at the 
top. The width of the mouth, or entrance, was commonly about two feet; 
on the very largest cache pits the mouth was never, I think, more than two 
feet eight, or two feet nine inches. In diagram (figure 25), the width of 
pit's mouth at BB' shoiild be a little more than two feet, narrowing to 
two feet a little higher up. 

In my father's family, we built our cache pits so that they were each 
of the size of a bull boat at the bottom. Other measurements were, as 



87 



88 GILBERT LIVINGSTONE WILSON 

I here show with my hands, one foot eight inches from the top of the mouth, 
where it is level with the ground, down to the puncheon cover that lay in 
the trench dug for the purpose; and two feet and a half from this plank 
cover to the lower part of the neck, marked BB' in the diagram. 

Descent into one of these big cache pits was made with a ladder; but 
in a small one, such as I have made you in vertical-section model, in a bank 
by the Missouri, and which you have photographed, the depth was not 
so great. In one of these smaller pits, when standing on the floor within, 
my eyes just cleared the level of the ground above, so that I could look 
around. When such a pit was half full of corn, I coidd descend and come 
out again, without the help of a ladder. At other times I had to be helped 
out; I would hold up my hands, and my mother, or some one else, would 
come and give me a lift. 

Usualh', two women worked together thus in a cache pit, one helping 
the other out, or taking tilings from her hands. One of my mothers was 
usually my helper. 

The digging and storing of a cache pit was women's work. For chg- 
ging the pit, a short handled hoe was used; of iron, in my day; of bone, I 
have heard, in olden times. 

I have dug more than one cache pit myself. I began by digging the 
round mouth, dragging the loosened earth away with my hoe. As the 
pit grew in depth, the excavated earth was carried off in a wooden bowl. 
I stood in the pit with the bowl at my feet and labored with my hoe, rak- 
ing the earth into the bowl. When it was full, I handed the bowl to my 
mother, who bore it away and emptied it. 

It took me two days and a good part of a third to dig a cache pit, my 
mother helping me to carry off the dirt; such a cache pit, I mean, as we used 
in my father's famil3% and which, as I have said, was large enough for a 
bull boat cover to be fitted into the bottom. 

A trench for the puncheon cover of the mouth was the very last part 
of the cache pit to be dug; but I will describe the use of this trench a little 
farther on . 

Grass for Lining 

When the cache pit was all dug, it had next to be lined with grass 
The grass used for this purpose, and for closing the mouth of the cache 
pit, was the long bluish kind that grows near springs and water courses on 
this reservation; it grows about three feet high. In the fall, this kind of 
grass becomes dry at the top, but is still green down near the roots; and we 
then cut it with hoes and packed it in bundles, to the village. 

This bluish grass was the onh' kind used for lining a cache pit. We 
knew by repeated trials that other kinds of grass would mold, and did not 
keep well. 



AGRICULTURE OF THE HIDATSA IXDIAXS 89 

Grass Bundles 

I remember, one time, I went out with my mother to cut <;rass. I 
took a pony along to pack our loads home. I loaded the pony with four 
bundles of grass, two on each side, bound to the saddle. A bundle was 
about four feet long, and from two and a half to three feet thick, pressed 
tight together. One bundle made a load for a woman. 

Besides the four bundles loaded on my pony, my mother packed one 
bundle back to the village, and three or four dogs dragged each a bundle 
on a travois. 

We reckoned that three of these bundles would be needed to line and 
close a large cache pit; and two and a half bundles, for a smaller pit. A 
hundred such bundles were needed to cover the roof of an earth lodge. 
Long established use made us able to make the bundles about alike in 
weight, though of cotu-se we had no scales to weigh them in those days. 

The Grass Binding Rope 

Each bundle was botnid with a rope of grass. In a bed of this grass as 
it stands by the spring or stream, there is often found dead grass from the 
year before, or even from two years previous, standing among the other 
grass stems that are still somewhat green at the roots. To make a binding 
rope I must use only dead grass. I did so in this manner; 

I stooped, took a wisp of grass in my hands, twisting it to the left and 
at the same gently lifting it, when all the dry stems would break off at 
the roots. I took a half step forward, laid the twisted end of the strand on 
the ground, and grasped another wisp of grass, which I twisted to the 
left and broke off as before; but I twisted the new wisp in such manner 
that it made part of the continued twisted strand. I continued thus until 
I had a strand long enough to tie my bundle. Figure 26 is a sketch made 
after my description of a grass bundle, showing the grass rope and the tie. 

Drying the Grass Bundles 

These grass bundles we fetched home and laid on the drying stage until 
we were ready to use them. Just before using, we took the btmdles up on 
the roof of the earth lodge, broke the binding ropes and spread the grass 
out to dry, for one day. 

The W'illotv Floor 

The walls of the cache pit were left bare for the grass lining; but a floor 
was laid on the bottom. This was rather simply made by gathering dead 
and dry willow sticks, and laying them evenly and snugly over the bottom 
of thQ pit. 



90 



GILBERT LIVINGSTONE WILSON 







l^C^'--^T 







r/ze Cras^ Lining 

Over this willow floor, the grass, now thoroughly dried, was spread 
evenly, to a depth of about four inches. Grass was then spread over 

the walls to a depth of three or four 
inches, and stayed in place with 
about eight wiUow sticks. These 
were placed vertically against the 
walls and nailed in place with 
wooden pins made each from the 
fork of a dead willow, as shown in 
figure 27. The ends of the sticks 
should reach to the neck of the 
cache pit, at the place marked B, 
in diagram (figure 25, page 87). 
We w-ere careful to spread the 
grass lining evenly over the walls ; and we were especially careful not to let 
the root ends get matted together, as they were very apt to do. 

It will be noticed that the willow flooring of the pit, the willow staying 
rods, and the wooden pins that held them in place, were all made of dead 
and dry willows; this was done that everything within the pit might be 
perfectly dry. 

It did not take long to place the grass lining of the cache pit. 



Figure 26 



Exact reproduction of sketch by Goodbird. 

The tie is pronounced accurate by 

Buffalobird-woman. 



Skin Bottom Covering 

If the cache i)it was a small one, we covered the 
bottom with a circular piece of skin, cut to fit the 
pit bottom, and laid it directly on the grass matting 
that covered the willow floor; but if the cache pit 
was a large one, we fitted into the bottom the skin 
cover of a bull boat, with the willow frame removed. 

Storing the Cache Pit 

The cache pit was now ready to be stored. 

My mother and I — and by "my mother" I mean 
always one of my two mothers, for my mother that 
bore me was dead — fetched an old tent cover from 
the earth lodge, and laid it by the cache pit so that 
one end of the cover hung down the pit's mouth. 
Upon this tent cover we emptied a big pile of shelled ripe com, fetched 
in baskets from the bull boats in which it had been temporarily stored 
inside the lodge. We also fetched many strings of braided com, and laid 




Figure 27 



AGRICULTURE OF THE IIIDATSA IXDIA.XS 



91 



them on one side of the tent cover. Lastly, we fetched some strings of 
dried squash and laid them on the tent co\-er. 

Of dried squash, I fetched but one string at a time, doubled and folded 
over ni}' left arm. A string of dried s(iuash, as I have said, was always 
seven Indian fathoms long; and I have described an Indian fathom as the 
distance from the tips of the fingers of one hand to the tips of the fingers 
of the other, with both hands outstretched at either side. As these meas- 
urements were made Idv the women workers, an Indian fathom averaged 
about five and a half feet in length. A string of dried squash, seven Indian 











Figure 28 

Plan of cache In horizontal section; A, floor ready for storing; B. thf first series of braided strings; 
C, loose com; D. first squash string. 

In vertical section: E, the first series of braided strings of corn; F, adding loose corn; G, the first 
squash string; H, loose com filled in around squash. 



fathoms in length, we knew by experience to be just about the weight that 
a woman could conveniently carry. A string eight fathoms long would 
be too heavy; and one six fathoms long would be rather short. 

All being now ready, my mother descended into the cache pit. Lean- 
ing over the mouth, I handed her a string of braided corn. In my father's 
family, we usually braided fifty-four, or fifty-five ears, to a string; and a 
woman could carry about three strings on her left shoulder. These braided 
strings, as I have said, my mother and I fetched from the drying stage; 
she stood on the stage floor and handed me the braided strings, and I bore 
them off to the cache pit. 

Leaning over the pit then, as I have said, I handed my mother one of 
the braided strings that now lay in a heap on the tent cover. My mother 



92 GILBERT LIVINGSTONE WILSON 

took the string of corn, folded it once over, and laid it snugly against the 
wall of the cache pit, on the skin bottom covering, with the tips of the ears 
all pointed inward. Folding a string thus kept the ears from slipping, 
and stayed them more firmly in place; and the ears, laid husk end to the 
wall, were better presei^'ed from danger of moisture. 

My mother continued thus all around the bottom of the pit, until she 
had surrounded it with a row of braided corn laid against the wall, two ears 
deep; for the strings, being doubled, lay therefore two ears deep. 

My mother now started a second row, or series, of strings of braided 
com doubled over, laying them upon the first series; and like these, with 
the ears all pointed inward. When this series was completed, the bottom 
of the cache pit was surrounded by strings of braided com, which, because 
doubled, now lay four ears deep. 

My mother now called to me that she was ready for the shelled, or 
loose, com. Obeying her, I pushed the shelled com that lay on the tent 
cover, down the overhanging end of the skin into the cache pit, until the 
floor of the pit was filled up level with the top of the four-tiered series of 
strings of braided corn. It will be seen now how necessary it was that a 
hide or bull boat cover be put in the bottom of the cache pit, to receive 
this shelled grain 

I next passed down a string of dried squash, seven fathoms long; and 
this my mother coiled and piled up in the center of the cache pit upon the 
shelled corn. This loose corn, I have already said, lay level with the top- 
most row of ears laid against the pit's wall, but did not quite cover the ears. 
I remember, as I looked down into the pit, I could see these corn ears lying 
in a circle about the loose corn within. Figure 28, drawn under my direc- 
tion, shows in a series of rough sketches how the cache pit was filled. 

Again I passed down strings of braided com to my mother. These 
she doubled, as before, and laid them around the wall of the cache pit, 
until they came up level with the top of the squash heap coiled in the 
center. We did not have any fixed number of rows of corn to place now; 
my mother just piled the doubled braids around the wall until they came 
even with the top of the coiled squash string. 

My mother then called to me, and again I shoved loose com into the 
cache pit, until it just barely covered the coiled squash pile and the top- 
most row of braided ears. 

The object of our putting the squash in the center of the shelled corn 
was to protect it from dampness. The shelled ripe corn did not spoil very 
easily, but dried squash did. We were careful, therefore, to store the 
strings of squash in the very center of the cache pit and surround them on 
every side with the loose corn; this protected the squash and kept it dry. 

We continued working, my mother and I, until the cache pit was filled. 
In an average sized cache pit we would usually store four seven-fathom 



AGRICULTURE OF THE IIIDATSA IXDIAyS 



93 



Strings of dried squash, coiled each in a heap in the center of the cache and 
hidden as described, in the loose corn; and as I recollect it, I think it took 
about thirty or more strings of braided com to lie around the wall of an 
average sized pit; but my memory here is a little uncertain, and this esti- 
mate may not be quite accurate. 

We filled the pit about up to the point marked B in the diagram (fig- 
ure 25), the last two feet being filled with shelled corn only; thus the last 
string of squash put in the cache pit should be covered with at least two 
feet of loose corn. 

Over this shelled corn, at B in the diagram, we snugly fitted a circular 
cover, cut from the thick skin of the flank of a buffalo bull. A bull's hide 

is thicker than a buffalo cow's, 
and for this reason was seldom 
made into a robe; but there 
were purposes for which a 
bull's hide was preferred. 
Thus the hea\'y thick-haired 
Ijarts of a bull's hide were 
much used for making saddle 
skins, because the heavy wool 
protected the horse's back; 
and the short haired parts 
were much used for making 
cache pit covers. Using these 
parts of the hide for covers, we did not have to bother to scrape off the 
hair, which in summer is very short on a buffalo's flanks. The skin cover 
was laid hair side up, so that the flesh side would come next to the loose com. 
On this hide cover my mother and I laid grass,' of the same kind as 
used for lining the cache pit wall. 

TJic Puncheon Cover 

Upon this grass, if the pit was one of the smaller ones, we laid puncheons; 
and these puncheons, as I have said, rested in a trench. 

The puncheons, split from small logs, were laid in the trench flat side 
down, so that they would not rock. There were about five main planks, 
or puncheons, the middle one being the heaviest, the better to sustain the 
weight of any horse that might happen to walk over the cache pit's mouth. 
On either side of these main puncheons were two shorter ones, laid to cover 
the small area of the pit's mouth not covered by the main puncheons. 

Figure 29 by Goodbird, drawn from the small model I made for j-ou in 
Wolf Chief's yard, will explain this. The puncheons shown in the figure 




Figure 29 
Redrawn from sketch bv Goodbird. 



• Slough grass, a species of Spartlna. 



■94 



GILBERT LIVINGSTONE WILSON 



exactly fit the trench; and their circumscribed outhne represents also the 
shape of the trench. The dotted circle represents the pit's mouth, now 
hidden by the over-lying puncheons. 

Upon the puncheons we now laid grass, quite filling the pit's mouth, 
and even heaped, it might be, a foot high above the level of the ground; 
this we trampled down hard, well into the mouth of the pit. 

Over this grass we fitted a second cover, cut as was the first from a 
buffalo bull's hide; and upon this we heaped earth until the pit was filled 
level with the ground. 




Lastly, we raked ashes and refuse dirt over the spot, to hide it from any 
■enemy that might come prowling around in the wnter, when the village 
was deserted. 

I have said that puncheons, resting in a trench, were used to cover the 
mouth of a cache pit of smaller size. If the pit was of the larger size, I dug 
about two feet down in the neck or opening, a rectangular place on either 
side, with my knife. Puncheons were thrust down into one of these rec- 
tangular openings and drawn through into the other, covering the mouth 
of the pit; and as in the smaller pit, there were several main puncheons, 
with one or two smaller and shorter ones at either side. Grass was stuffed 
into the two openings, above the ends of the puncheons, to firm the latter. 
Abote the puncheons, the mouth of the pit was filled in, as was that of the 
smaller pit, with gi'ass, a circular skin cover, and earth. 



AGRICULTURE OF THE IIIDATSA INDIANS 95 

The two rectangular openings which I dug with my knife in the neck 
of the larger pit, were, as will be noted, a little farther down than was the 
floor of the trench of the smaller pit. This was because the neck was 
longer in a pit of the larger size. 

Cache Pits in Small Ankle's Lodge 
First Account 

In diagram (figui^e 30), I have marked the positions of the cache pits 
we had in use in my father's family, when I was a girl. Cache A was 
used for hard yellow shelled com; but the braids piled against the wall of 
the pit were of white corn; so also of B and C. In cache D were stored 
dried boiled corn and strings of dried squash. 

Sometimes in one of the cache pits outside of the lodge we put a bag of 
beans, or sometimes two bags. Each bag was of skin and was about as 
long as one's arm; its shape was long and round. 

In the fall, when we went to our winter lodges, com, squash, beans, 
and whatever else was needed, we loaded on our horses and took with us. 
As soon as we came to our winter lodge we made ready a cache pit at once 
and stored these things away. 

We opened a cache pit whenever we got out of provisions. When 
should this be, you ask? When we got out of provisions. This might 
happen at any time. One winter. I remember, we got out of provisions and a 
number of our people left the winter village and went to the lodges at 
Like-a-fishhook village, to open a cache. The Sioux sturounded them 
there. Our people took refuge in a kind of fort that belonged to the traders 
and fired down from an upper room; they killed two of the Sioux. 

Cache pit F in the diagram, we made afterwards. Pit E was also of 
later make; we dug it after we got potatoes; it was inside the lodge and 
near the corral for horses. 

Cache pit C we had to abandon because mice got into it and we could 
not get rid of them. So we filled it up with earth and dug pit D. We 
stored gummy corn in cache pit D and used it for two years. The third 
year the Sioux came against our village in the winter time and stole our 
corn and burned down my father's lodge. 

I have been telling you how the cache pit was used for storing things 
for winter; but I do not mean that it was of no use in summer time. In 
early spring we put into a cache pit two big packages of dried meat and a 
bladder full of bone grease. We did not take them out until about August 
or a little earlier. The meat woiUd still be good, and tlic bone grease would 
be hard and sweet, just as if it were frozen. 

A cache pit lasted for a long time, used year after year. 



96 



GILBERT LIVINGSTONE WILSON 



A Second Account on Another Day 

We had four cache pits to store grain for my father's family; one held 
squash, vegetables, com, etc. 

A second held shelled yellow corn. In this cache the usual strings of 
corn laid around to protect the shelled grain from the wall, were of white 
corn. We did not braid hard yellow corn. It was com that we did not 
often use for parching. 

A third cache held white shelled com, protected by the usual braided 
strings of white corn. 




Figure 31 
Redrawn from sketch by Goodbird. 



A. 
women. 
B. 
C. 
D. 



Bed of Small Ankle and Strikes-many- 



Bed of Wolf Chief and wife. 
Bed of Bear's Tail and wife. 
Bed of Son-of-a-Star and his wife Buffalo- 
bird-woman. 

E. Bed of Flies-low. Yellow Front Hair 
and Fen-upon-his-house, three boys. 

F. Bed of Turtle. 

G. Place for storing ax, hay, wood, or any 
thing that could be piled or laid away. 



H. Bed of Small Eyes, elder sister of 
Strikes-many- women; the bed here by the fire- 
place being the warmest was commonly reserved 
for an elderly person. (Small Eyes is probably 
the same as Red Blossom). 

K. Corn mortar and pestle. 

L. and M. Cache pits. 

N. Platform of slabs on which were stored 
food, utensils, etc. 

P. Lazy-back or native chair. 

XXX. Small Ankle's medicines, or sacred 
objects. 



A fourth cache pit was a small one inside the lodge; here wc stored 
dried wild turnips, dried choke-cherries, and dried June berries; and any 
valuables that we cotild not take with us to our winter village. 



AGRICULTURE OF THE HIDATSA INDIA XS 97 

Our cache pits were for the most part located outside the lodt,'c, Vjccausc 
mice were found inside the lodge, and they were apt to be troublesome. 

In the cache pit where we stored our yellow corn, we stored the grain 
loose, not in sacks. 

I knew of course where each cache pit was located. 

The Sioux sometimes came up against us in winter and raided our 
cached com. One ^-inter (about 1877) they came up and burned our lodges 
and stole all that was in our cache pits. 

We returned from our winter quarters to our permanent village a little 
before ice breaks on the Missouri, or in the latter part of March. 

Diagram of Small Ankle's Lodge 

Figure 31 is a diagram of Small Ankle's lodge, as I remember it. My 
three brothers slept in bed E, but often Wolf Chief or Bear's Tail and their 
wives would be away, staying at some other lodge, perhaps at the wife's 
mother's; sometimes they visited thus for a long time. The boys might 
then make use of the vacant bed of the visiting couple. 

All beds were covered with skins, as I have before described to you. 

Small children slept with their parents. 

I do not know why my father put his medicine shrines in the rear of 
the lodge. Ours was a big family and there was not room enough for all 
the beds on one side. Probably Small Ankle wanted the medicine objects 
near his bed and not where the children were. 



CHAPTER VIII 
THE MAKING OF A DRYING STAGE 
Stages in Likc-a-fishhook Village 

There were about seventy lodges in Like-a-fishhook village, when I 
was a girl. A corn drying stage stood before every lodge. 

That before Small Ankle's lodge was a three-section stage, of eight 
posts. White Feather, or his wives, owned two of these big eight-post stages, 
one before each of their two lodges; for White Feather had four wives. 
Many Growths — a woman — had a big eight-post stage. There were a 
few other eight-post stages in the village, but they were small, with nar- 
row sections and posts placed relatively rather close to one another. 

The rest of the stages in the village, as I recollect, were all six-post, or 
two-section, stages. 

In all cases, whether of a six-post or eight-post stage, the floor was 
upheld by two long, but narrow beams, that ran the whole length of the 
stage. 

The description I shall now give of the making of a drj'ing stage, is of 
an eight-post stage, such as always stood before my father's lodge. 

Cutting the Timbers 

The timbers we used for building a drying stage were all of cottonwood. 
Being thus of a soft wood, the timbers did not last so very long when ex- 
posed to the weather; and a stage built of cottonwood timbers lasted only 
about three years; the fourth year, unless the stage was rebuilt, the posts 
rotted and the stage would fall down. Unlike the posts of a watchers' 
stage, those of a drying stage were always carefully peeled of bark, as 
they rotted more quickly if the bark was left on. 

My mother's drying stage, as I have said, had eight posts; and these 
posts we cut with forks at the top. If we could find them, or if we had time 
to hunt for them in the woods, we cut double-forked posts, like that of 
figure 32. But it was much easier to get the smaller posts, of the height 
of the stage floor. Such a post had but one fork at the top, in which lay 
one of the beams that supported the floor; and a companion post, longer 
and not so heavy, stood by it to support the railing at the top of the stage. 
However, in reckoning the number of posts of a stage, I count a single- 
forked post and its companion as but one post. 

For the two long beams on which the floor of the stage was to be laid, 
we cut two rather slender logs, the longest we could find in the woods. 

98 



AGRICULTURE OF THE HIDATSA INDIANS 99 

All these timbers we cut in the summer time, pecUng off the liark and 
letting them He until winter, to dry. Then when there was snow on the 
ground, we hitched ropes to the seasoned timbers and dragged them into 
the village. 

The stage was built the following spring or summer, to be ready for 
the fall harvest; so that we commonly cut the timbers for a stage nine 
months or a year before they were to be used in building it. 

Digging the Post Holes 

When we were ready to begin building, the first thing we had to do was 
to mark the post holes. "We laid the two long floor beams parallel 
on the ground, at such a distance apart as to enclose the space '\a 
necessary for the stage. We then marked the places for the post jf 
holes, at proper distances along the inside of the two beams; there •'1 
were eight of these post holes, four on a side. 1 ,] 

These post holes were dug with a long digging stick, and the j 
dirt removed, to the depth of a woman's arm from the shoulder \ \ ^ 
to the hand ; that was as far as one could reach down to lift out i ~/ 
the dirt. To get the post holes all of a depth, I took a stick and 
measured on it the length of my arm from shoulder to fingers; this 
stick I used to probe the holes to see that they were of a proper 
depth. 

We now laid down all the posts in a row, and so adjusted 
them that the forks that were to receive the floor beams lay all in 
a straight line; that is, if the posts were two-forked posts, all the 
forks C (figure 32) would lie in a straight line; and if the posts, ' "^ 
or some of them, were single-forked posts, their tops would lie in ^'s<^^^ ^- 
a line with fork C of the double-forked posts. 

On all the posts a charcoal line was now drawn at A (figure 32). The 
distance from A to B (figure 32) should be the length of a woman's arm, 
which also was the depth of the post hole. But in cutting the posts, no 
matter how careful we were, there was always some irregularity in lengths 
so that the part from A to Z? upon the various posts might slightly vary. 

All having now been marked with the charcoal line, the posts were 
rolled each to its proper post hole and the part .4 B on the post was carefully 
measured and compared with the hole's depth. For this purpose the stick 
used to probe the post holes came again into use. If the length of the 
part AB on any post happened to be an inch or two longer than my arm 
its post hole was deepened to the same extent. All this was neces- 
sary in order that when the posts were dropped into their holes, the 
forks that were to receive the floor beams would lie all at the same 
height. 



100 GILBERT LIVINGSTONE WILSON 

I have said that a charcoal line was drawn around each post at A (fig- 
ure 32). The position of this line, after the first one v/as drawn, was 
obtained by measuring from the fork C; and care was taken that the meas- 
urements on all the posts should be exactly alike. The charcoal line quite 
encircled the post. 

Raising the Frame 

The posts were now raised and dropped into the post holes; raising 
was by hand. The posts were turned so that the forks lay in proper posi- 
tion to receive the floor beams and upper rails; a two-forked post was 
placed with the prong C (figure 32) turned inward. 

A single-forked post had to have a companion post beside it, also forked, 
to support the railing at the top of the stage. This companion post was not so 
heavy, but of course was longer. It stood just beside the main post and 
was carefully adjusted to receive the upper rail properly. It was lashed 
to the main post by a green-hide thong. 

This thong might pass around the shorter post just below its fork; or 
it might bind the companion post to one of the prongs of the fork itself. 

If I had several two-forked posts and several one-forked posts with 
companion posts beside them, it required some little bit of fitting to adjust 
them all so that the floor beams and rails would lie properly. To better 
permit this to be done, it was not my custom to firm the earth about the 
post, until the frame had been set up and adjusted; for little irregularities 
in the fitting could be cured by slightly moving the posts as they stood un- 
firmed, in their holes. When the frame was properly adjusted, I took my 
digging stick — it was always a long one that was used for digging holes — 
and rammed the earth around the foot of each post, firming it. 

It was the custom of my tribe when digging the post holes, to dig each 
one just the diameter of its post, or as nearly to it as we could; then the 
posts when raised fitted snugly into the holes. 

The two long floor beams having been raised into position, the two 
poles that were to make the top railing were also raised. These rails were 
of the same length, but were not so hea\^, as the floor beams. We were 
now ready to lay the floor. 

The Floor 

The floor of the stage was of cottonwood planks. Cottonwood logs, 
nine to twelve inches in diameter, had been cut of proper length. Out of 
the center of each was split a plank, or board, with ax and wedge. These 
planks were laid to make the floor, the ends of the planks resting on the 
two floor beams that lay on the forks of the posts. We took care to make 
the floor as snug as possible. The plaiiks were carefully fitted together, 
and if there was any little crooked place in a plank that left a crack in the 



AGRICULTURE OF THE III DATS A INDIANS 



101 




floor, we stuffed a dry cornstalk into the crack so that no car of corn could 
fall through. 

The planks that made the floor were not bound to the floor beams, 
nor weighted down in any way; their own weight stayed them in 
place. 

I have said that the drying stage had to be rebuilt about every three 
years because the posts rotted down in that time. This was not true of 
the floor planks; they lasted much longer and were used year after 
year. 

Staying Thongs 

The eight posts of the stage stood in pairs, a post on either side of the 
floor; and between the tops of each pair of posts a 
green-hide thong was bound, and left to dr}'. These 
thongs stayed the stage and made it stronger and firmer ; 
often they were also made to bind down the upper rails 
to the forks of the posts. 

Ladder 

The stage stood always in front of the earth lodge 
with its longer side to the door. A ladder stood at the 
right hand nighcr corner post — as one comes out of the 
lodge — with the foot of the ladder resting a little way 
from the stage. The top of the ladder leaned against 
the end of the floor beam on the side next the lodge. 

Of course if the ladder were left here with nothing to 
stay it, it would fall against the loose planks of the stage 
floor and force them out of position. To prevent this a 
pole was bound firmly to the two posts .4 and B (figure 
12) and resting on the two floor beams just outside the 
posts. The ladder rested against this pole. To receive 
the pole, the floor beams were made to project a little 
bit forward at the ladder end of the stage. 

The ladder was made of a cottonwood trunk, about ten inches in diam- 
eter, with notches cut in it for steps. At its lower end it was brought 
to an edge that it might more firmly rest on the ground and not turn when 
someone stepped on it. At the upper end a notch was cut in the back to 
receive the end of the floor beam against which the ladder rested. (See 
figure 33.) 

The ladder had always one fixed place; or, if for any reason it had to 
be moved during labors, we took pains to warn our friends. A woman in 
our village once moved her ladder to another place on her stage and for- 
got about it. When she started to come down she stepped in the old 



Ladder 

with 

details 

of 

the 

ends 



Figure 33 



102 GILBERT LIVINGSTONE WILSON 

place and fell and broke both her anns. We did not like to have a ladder 
removed from its accustomed place for fear of just such accidents. 

When the owner descended from her drying stage, she took down her 
ladder and laid it on the ground beside the stage. It was not proper for 
strangers to go up on the drying stage, nor were children allowed to go up there. 

Neighbors sometimes came in and borrowed the ladder; but when not 
in use, its proper place was on the ground by the stage. 

You ask me how we Indian women ascended and descended a ladder. 
I never thought of our having any particular custom in this; but now that 
you call my attention to it, I remember that a woman ascended and de- 
scended a ladder with her face toward the stage, giving her the appearance 
of going up sidewise, and coming down in the same manner. 

In going up a ladder I usually placed my left foot on the lowest step; 
brought mj^ right foot around in front and over my left to the second step; 
then my left foot past and behind my right foot, with my face toward the 
drying stage. My left hand might or might not touch the ladder, as I 
was used to ascending it and felt no fear. 

In descending a ladder I placed my right foot on the highest step, and 
overlapped with my left; and so until the bottom was reached. 

I do not know if other women had exactly this custom, for I never 
observed or thought anything about it; but I do know that always, as- 
cending or descending, an Indian woman went sidewise, with her face 
toward the stage. 

Enlarging the Stage 

Some years, if our family's corn crop was very large, we extended our 
drying stage, making it five posts long instead of four posts long, on a 
side. Other families did likewise, as they had need; one family might have 
com enough to require a stage five posts long, while another family needed 
one only foiu: posts long, on a side Stages, indeed, varied in length with 
the needs of the family, but they were all of about the same width. 

Present Stages 

The stage that I have been describing is of the kind that was in use in 
my tribe when I was a young girl of twelve or thirteen years of age. At 
present we no longer use this, oiu- old form, but the Arikara form instead. 

The Arikara stage differs in having a floor of willows, and is easier to 
make. It took two days to erect a stage of the old fashioned kind, such 
as I have been describing. 

Building, Women's Work 

Building the drying stage was women's work, although the men helped 
raise the heavy posts and floor beams. In my father's family, my two 



AGRICULTURE OF THE HIDATSA INDIANS 103 

mothers and I built the stage; but my father also helped us, especially if 
there was any heavy lifting to do. 

Measurements of Stage 

I will now give you the measurements of such a stage as we used in 
my father's family. 

Pacing it off here, on the ground, the length of the stage was, I think, 
about so long — thirty fcet.^ Its width was about thus— twelve feet. 
From the ground to the top of the stage floor was a little higher than a 
woman can reach with her hand, or about six feet, six inches; there were 
horses in the village, and the stage floor must be high enough so that the 
horses could not reach the corn. From the floor of the stage to the upper 
railing was about so high (holding up a stick), or five feet and nine inches. 

I will now give you the measurements of the posts and beams; and for 
this, we will use the little model which I have made for you. In this model 

o o- o o 

A B C D 



n b C d 

g- o O fO 

oxa o>'b o>^^ ''Q ° 

Figure 34 

I have used double-forked posts on one side, and single-forked posts, with 
companion posts, on the other side. 

In the diagram (figtn-e 34), A, B, C, D, are double-forked posts; a. b 
c, d, are single-forked posts; and xa, xb, xc, xd, are companion posts. 

The double-forked posts. A, B, C, and D, should be about ten inches in 
diameter between the lower fork and the groimd, but tapering slightly 
toward the upper fork. This upper fork, if it was not in the post nat- 
urally, might be cut to receive the upper rail. The posts a, 5, c, and d, 
should be ten inches in diameter; and the companion posts, xa, xb, xc, and 
xd, shordd be, perhaps, four- inches in diameter. All of these posts are 
set in the ground with the smaller, or branch end upward. 

The floor beams should each be about nine and one-half inches in diam- 
eter at one end, tapering to four or five inches in diameter at the other 
end. This tapering was the nattiral growth of the titmk; it was not, 1 
mean, cut tapering with an ax. The beams were so laid that the heavy 
ends were always at the front of the stage as we called it; that is, at the 
end v/here the ladder stood. 

' Buffalobird-woman here means a three-section stage. .\ stage of four sections wouUi be forty feel 
or more in length. — G. L. W. 



104 GILBERT LIVINGSTONE WILSON 

The upper rails were about three and a half inches in diameter. They 
were chosen for strength, if possible of trunks that were branchless, or 
nearly so. These upper rails were also laid with the heavy ends toward the 
front, or ladder end^of the stage. 

I have said that if the long posts. A, B, C, D, had no natural fork at the 
top, one was cut; but all other forks, and those also on the tops of the shorter 
posts were natural. 

We took pride in building the stage of well chosen timbers, and in mak- 
ing the parts fit snugly. The floor especially was laid as smooth and as 
evenly as possible; and here and there, if a crack appeared, a dry corn stalk 
was caulked in to make the floor snug and smooth. We were also careful 
to choose straight, well formed trunks for posts and floor beams. 

Drying Rods 

Lying across the top of the stage in harvest time, with their ends rest- 
ing on the upper rails, were often a number of drying rods. A drying rod 
was~ a pole averaging a little more than two inches in diameter and 
about thirteen feet long, its length permitting six or seven inches to pro- 
ject over the rail on which either end rested. 

These drying rods were much used in har\''est time. When old women 
came to the stage to slice squashes, they spitted the slices, as I have de- 
scribed, on willow spits; and these spits again were laid on the drying 
rods, each end of a spit resting on one of the rods. 

The dr^'ing rods had other uses. If the day was warm, old women 
working on the floor of the stage would lay two or three of these rods across 
the upper rails and throw a buffalo robe over them, and thus have shade 
while they worked. They bound the robe down with thongs to hold it 
firm. 

When not in use the drying rods were laid lengthwise on the floor of 
the stage that the wind might not blow them about. 

Other Uses of the Drying Stage 

By far the chief use of the drying stage, was to dry our vegetables, 
especially ovu: com and sliced squashes. Firewood, collected from the 
Missouri river in the June rise, was often piled on and under the stage floor, 
to dry. 

The keepers of the O'kipa ceremony used to bring out their builalo 
head masks, and air them on the drying stage that stood before their lodge 
door. 



CHAPTER IX 
TOOLS 

Hoe 

Iron hoes had come into general use when I was a girl, but there were 
two or three old women who used old fashioned bone hoes. I think my 
grandmother, Turtle, was the very last to use one of these bone hoes. 
I will describe the hoe she vised, as I remember it. 

The blade was made of the shoulder bone of a buffalo, with the edge 
trimmed and sharpened ; and the ridge of bone, that is found on the shoulder 
blade of every animal, was cut off and the place smoothed. 

The handle of the hoe was split, and grooves were cut in the split to 
receive the bone blade; this was slightly cut to fit and was so set that the 
edge pointed a little backw-ards. 

Raw-hide thongs bound the split firmly about the blade and a stout 
thong, running from a groove a little waj' up the handle, braced the blade 
in place. (See figure 3, page 12). 

Under my directions, Goodbird has made a hoe such as I saw my grand- 
mother use, using the shotddcr bone of a steer for a blade. You can make 
necessary measurements from it. 

Hoe handles were made of cottonwood or some other light wood. 

Rakes 

We Hidatsas began our tilling season with the rake. 

We used tw^o kinds,' both of native make; one was made of a black-tailed 
deer horn (figure 5, page 14), the other was of wood (figure 4, page 14). 

Of the two, we thought the horn rake the better, because it did not grow 
worms, as we said. Worms often appear in a garden and do much dam- 
age. It is a tradition with us that worms are afraid of horn; and we be- 

' "Tbe first that rakes are mentioned in the stories of my tribe so far as I know, is in the tale of 'The 
GranJson.' There is a little lake down near Short River where lived an old magic woman, whom we call 
Old-woman-who-never-dies. There is a level piece of ground near by, about five miles long by one and a 
half mile wide. This flat land was the garden of Oid-woman-who-never-dies. Her servants were the 
deer that thronged the near-by timber. These deer worked her garden for her. All buck deer have 
horns; and with their horns the deer raked up the weeds and refuse of Old-woman-who-never-dies's garden. 

"Now deer shed their horns. Old-woman-who-never-dies got these shed horns and bound them on 
sticks and so we got our first rakes. Her grandson saw what she did and afterwards taught the people to 
make rakes also. 

"In later times we learned to make rakes of ash wood instead of horns; but we still reckon the teeth to 
mean the tines of a deer's antler. Sometimes deer have six, sometimes seven tines on an antler. So we 
make our ash rakes, some with six. some with seven teeth. 

■'If the Grandson had not seen what his grandmother did. we riidats,as woul.l never have known how 
to make rakes, either of horn or of ash wood." — Wolf Chief (told in 1910). 

105 



106 



GILBERT LIVINGSTONE WILSON 



lieved if we used black-tailed deer horn rakes, not many worms would be 
found in our fields that season. 

We believed wooden rakes caused worms in the corn. These worms, 

we thought, came out of the wood in 
the rakes; just how this was, we did 
not know. 

However, horn rakes were heavy 
and rather hard to make ; and for this 
reason, the handier and more easily 
made wooden rakes were more com- 
monly used. 

All this that I tell you of our tools 

and fields is our own lore. White 

men taught us none of it. All that I 

have told you, we Indians knew since 

Figure 35 the world began. 




Squash Knives 

Squash knives of bone were still in use when I was young. I have often 
seen old women using them but, as I recollect, I never saw one being made. 

The knife was made from the thin part of a bttffalo's shoulder bone; 
never, I think, from the shovdder bone of a deer, elk, or bear. 

The bone of a buffalo cow was best, because it was thinner. If the 
squash knife was too thick, the slices of squash were apt to break as they 
were being severed from the fruit. Bone squash knives, as I remember, 
were used for slicing squashes and for nothing else. 

A squash knife should be cut from green bone; it would then keep an 
edge, for green bone is firm and hard. I do not think I ever saw anyone 
sharpening a bone knife so far as I can now recollect.. 

There was no handle to a bone squash knife, beyond the natural bone. 

A bone squash knife lasted a long tiine. Old women in our village 
who used these bone knives, brought them out each summer in the squash 
harvest. It was their habit, I think, to keep the knives in the back part 
of the lodge, by the owner's bed. Whether it was customary to keep the 
knives in bags, or in some other receptacle, I do not know. 

My mothers used a white man's steel knife for slicing squashes; but as 
I have said, there were old women in the village who still used the older 
bone knives. 

Yellow Squash, I remember, was one; an old Hidatsa woman named 
Blossom was another; so also was Goes-around-the-end. 

This model of a squash knife (figure 35) that I have had my son Good- 
bird make for you, is of rather dry bone; I have had him grease it, that it 
mav be more like green bone. 



AGRICULTURE OF THE HIDATSA INDIANS 



lor 




Figure 36 



CHAPTER X 

FIELDS AT LIKE-A-FISHHOOK VILLAGE 

East-Side Fields 

Figure 36 is a map I have made of the gardens east, or better, southeast, 
of Like-a-fishhook village. The fields lay, as indicated on the map, upon 
a point of land that went out into the Missouri river. The map is only 
approximately correct. There were many other gardens than those repre- 
sented here on the map; for I have made no attempt to indicate any but 
those that lay in the immediate vicinity of the field my family tilled. 
These, however, I remember pretty clearly, and believe my map to be, as 
far as it goes, fairly accurate. 

Our family garden is the one marked "Strikes-many-women's and Buf- 
falobird-woman's." It lay just south of Lone Woman's and Want-to-be-a- 
woman's. The field was rather irregtilar at first ; a corner of it, as I have 
said, was claimed by Lone Woman and Goes-to-next-timber, as they had 
started to clear it. My mothers bought out the rights of the claimants, 
in order to keep our field more nearly rectangular, so that we could count 
our Indian acres more accurately. This corner is marked by a dotted line, 
on the map. 

I remember that when I was a little girl, the boundaries of the field 
were rather irregular at first ; and my grandmother, Tvirtle, would go along 
the edge with her digging stick and dig up the ground to make the corners 
come out more nearly squared, and the sides of the field be straightened. 

The field was also enlarged from year to year toward the sides; and 
much of this work my grandmother did with her digging stick. The 
garden when completed was the largest ever owned in my family; it was 
this field whose size I measured off for you on the prairie the other day. 

The village gardens varied in size. Some families tilled large fields; 
others rather small ones. Some families did not work very energetically; 
and these were often put to it to have food. Other families worked hard, 
and always had a plenty. Families were not all equally industrious. 

There were no watchers' stages nor booths in these east-side fields. 
The ground rose in a shelf, or bluff, just north of the gardens; from this 
shelf the watchers could watch their fields and sing to the growing com 
without the trouble of having to build stages. 

The soil of the east-side gardens was bottom land and prairie, with 
little or no timber. 

East Side Fences 

Our fields on the east-side of the village were fenced, as will be seen 
from the map. The fences were made thus: 

108 



AGRICULTURE OF THE IIIDATSA IXPIA.XS 10<> 

Posts were cut of any kind of wood two or three inches in diameter 
and forked at the top. These were set in holes, at distances about as we 
now use for corral posts, or twelve feet from post to post. Posts were 
sunk the length of my forearm and fingers into the ground. Holes were 
made with digging stick and knife, and the dirt drawn out by hand. 

Rails were laid in the forks of the posts and bound down with strips 
of bark; elm bark was strongest, but other kinds were used. The railing 
thus made ran about three and a half feet from the ground, the height of 
the posts that upheld it. All the rails were peeled of bark. 

No attempt was made to firm the structure, as we did our drying stages. 
Our object was but to keep out the horses, and if the fence was strong enough 
to withstand the winds we thought that enough. 

As will be seen from the map, some of the fields were fenced quite 
around; but this was done only when the field was isolated. When several 
gardens adjoined, a single fence usually ran around them all, and not 
around each individual field. 

When several gardens were enclosed in a single fence, each owner looked 
after that part of the fence that bordered her own land, and kept it in repair. 

We did not run our fences close to the boundary of our gardens as white 
men do. As we built our fences chiefly to keep horses out of the gardens, 
we placed them far enough away so that even if the horses approached the 
fence, they could not reach over and nibble the growing corn. 

I think our fences stood twelve or fifteen feet away from the culti\'ated 
ground, as I pace it here on the ground. I know no reason why they were 
run thus, except as I have said, to keep the horses from nibbling the corn. 
You see, fifteen feet is quite a little distance; and the fence could have stood 
closer to the cultivated ground and still been far enough away to keep 
the horses from nibbling the crops. All I know is, that it was a 
custom of my tribe, and I always followed this custom if I had a fence 
to build. 

As will be seen by the map, the corners of the fences were turned rather 
round; not built squared, as white men build their fences. Wc could not 
square the corners as white men do when they build wire fences, because we 
could not lay the rails in the forks of the posts and bind them down firmly 
if we did so. Perhaps that is the reason we ran the fences so far from the 
cultivated ground, that the fence, turning the corners, might not invade 
the cultivated ground — if you will look at the map you will sec what I mean. 
However, I do not know if this is the reason or not. 

Horses did not trouble us much, as we did not permit them to graze 
near our garden lands; they were pastured on the prairie. 

We always had fences around our fields as long ago as I know any- 
thing about; and I have heard that our tribe had such fences in the villages 
they built at the mouth of the Knife River, to protect their fields there 



110 GILBERT LIVINGSTONE WILSON 

from their horses. Such, I have heard, has been our Indian custom since 
the world began. 

At the very first it is true, we did not own ponies; but we soon got them. 

I thirds my tribe obtained ponies from the western tribes. In my own 
youth we Hidatsas got many of our horses from western tribes, especially 
from the Crows. 

Idikita'c's Garden 

On the map there appears a garden marked as belonging to a woman 
named Idikita'c. She made her garden after all the others had been fenced 
in. There was a road that went down to some June-berry and choke-cherry 
patches, in the small timber that stood beyond the gardens; it was a mere 
path used by villagers afoot, by women with their dogs, and sometimes by 
horsemen. 

Now, Idikita'c laid out her field so that it enclosed a small section of 
this road; and she built a fence around it and tried to keep the villagers 
from going across her land. The people did not like this. Idikita'c would 
tie up her fence tight, but the villagers going down to the choke-cherry 
patch, would go right through her garden, following the road that had been 
there; sometimes they even went through with horses. 

"You must not make your garden here," the people said to Idikita'c, 
"this is a road!" 

And Idikita'c answered, "I do not want you to do damage to my garden!" 

There was quite a deal of talk in the village about this matter, and 
quite a bit of trouble came of it. 

Fields West of the Village 

The first field cleared by my father's family on the west side of the vil- 
lage, is that marked A, on the plot legended with Turtle's name, on the map 
(figure 37), which I have had my son Goodbird draw for you of our west- 
side fields. A coulee bordered one end of the field ; and in the rainy months 
the water washed out much of the good soil. Willows growing up along 
the edge of the coulee also gave us much trouble. We therefore extended 
our field to the other side of the coulee, to include the part marked B. 

Afterwards we added another field, marked on the map with my name, 
Maxi'diwiac. 

In Turtle's garden there was a watchers' stage, C, with a tree beside it. 
There was also a booth, D. 

Peppermint and Yellow Hair had each a watchers' stage and a booth 
in her garden, as indicated on the map. Another stage and a tree stood 
in a garden near by, the name of whose owner I have now forgotten. I 
have marked the position of stage and tree in each field only approximately 



AGRICULTURE OF THE 11 1 DATS A INDIANS 



111 



except in Turtle's garden; as this was one of our own family fields, I re- 
member the position of stage and tree very accurately. 

In this map, as in that of the east-side gardens, I have indicated only 
the fields that lay in the vicinity of those cultivated by my own family; 



?/,';cQ 













Fiyure 37 



there were many others, but I can not, after so many years, accurately 
mark their positions, nor tell the names of the owners. 



West-Side Fence 

A fence protected our west-side gardens also, but only on the side near- 
est the village, probably because the horses could be expected to come from 
that direction. This fence differed somewhat from those on the east side. 



112 



GILBERT LIVINGSTONE WILSON 



The fence was built thus: 

A heavy stick was sharpened at one end and driven into the ground 
with an ax; it was loosened by working it from side to side with the hands, 
and withdrawn, leaving a hole about a foot deep. 

Into this hole was thrust a diamond willow, butt end downward, for post. 
The long tapering top with the twigs and leaves still on it, was bent over 
and around a rail (that was raised into position for the purpose) and then 
twisted around the post and tied down with bark. A second rail was bound 
to the post below the first. The sketch on the map- gives an idea of what 
is meant, and in figure 38 is sketch and diagram by Goodbird. 



M 




M 




Figure 38 

Reproduced from sketch by Goodbird. On the left is post newly 

placed with foliage intact. On the right is post with 

foliage omitted to show how top was bound 

down over rails. 

This fence was nearly or quite shoulder high to a woman, or about 
four feet; and the posts were about two feet apart, so that even a traveller 
going afoot could not squeeze his way between them. 



Crops, Our First Wagon 

The first wagon owned in my tribe belonged to Had-many-antelopes. 
My father hired him for a pair of trousers to haul in the com from our 
gardens, one year. Had-many-antelopes fetched in three wagon loads 
from my garden ; the field I mean, marked with my name ; and three more 
wagon loads from the field A, in Turtle's garden. From the field B, in Turtle's 
garden, the family fetched the com that year, for that field we had planted 
all to sweet corn; not gummy com, but com planted to half -boil and dry, 
for winter. 



CHAPTER XI 
MISCELLANEA 

Divisions Bchvecn Gardens 

When two fields adjoined the dividint; space, or ground that ran be- 
tween them, we called maadupatska'; it was always al;)out four feet wide. 

The word really means, I think, a raised ridge of earth. Wc still use 
the word in this sense. Down by the govermnent school house at Inde- 
pendence, our agent has run a road; and the earth dug out of the roadway 
has been piled along the side in a low ridge to get rid of it. This ridge, 
running along the side of the road, we call maadupatska'. 

But the maadupatska' dividing two gardens in old times was never 
raised in a ridge. It was nothing but a four-foot-wide dividing line. Noth- 
ing grew on it. Each gardener hoed her half of the maadupatska' to keep 
it clean of grass and weeds. We were particular about this; we did not 
want to have any weeds in our gardens. 

I do not mean that I, for example, was accustomed to hoe exactly one 
half of the maadupatska' that bordered my garden, leaving exactly the 
other half to my neighbor. I merely hoed as needed, and my neighbor 
did likewise; but the work was pretty cqualh* divided, each woman recog- 
nizing that she should do her share. 

Sometimes, however, the owner of a garden would come to her next 
neighbor and say, "I do not want you to have any hard feelings, nor ?pcak 
against me; but I want to plant the maadupatska' that divides our gardens, 
in squash;" or instead of squash, she might want to platit it in sunflowers 
or beans. 

Periiiission being given, she would plant as slic had requested; and 
thereafter, of course, she would hoe all the maadupatska', because she had 
a crop standing on it. But even then the ground would not be licr.^, and 
her neighbor might refuse the yjcrmission asked. 

I have said that it might be asked to plant squash, or beans, or sun- 
flowers. A gardener never asked to plant corn on the maadupatska' that 
bordered her field. Rows of corn hills should l)e about four feet apart; and 
as this was the width of the maadupatska', even a pingle row of hills v.-oukl 
have crowded the com; but Ijcans or squashes or sunflowers planted 
on the maadupatska' did not do so. 

Falloiving, Ownership of Gardens 

T\\e first crop oii new ground was always the best, though the second 
was nearly as good. Tlie third year's crop was not so good; and after that. 

11.3 



114 GILBERT LIVINGSTONE WILSON 

each year, the crop grew less, until in some seasons, especially in a dry 
summer, hardly anjrthing was produced. 

The owners then stopped cultivating the garden and let it lie for two 
years; the third year they again planted the garden and found it would 
yield a good crop as before. During the two years their garden lay fal- 
low, the family owning it would plant their season's crop elsewhere. 

In my father's family we owned garden lands both on the east and on 
the west side of the village, as I have told you in explaining the two maps 
made for you. This made it easy, if need arose, to work one garden while 
we let the other rest. There were families in the village who owned more 
fields even, than did my father's household. 

Sometimes when a woman died, her relatives did not trouble them- 
selves to work her garden for a couple of years, but just let it rest; then 
they would begin planting it again, and the ground was sure to bring forth a 
good crop. I think our custom of fallowing ground may have arisen in tliis 
way. When a woman died leaving a garden, and her relatives did not at 
once take possession, it was found that a two years' rest increased the 
yield; and so the custom of fallowing, perhaps, arose. Every one in the 
village knew the value of a two years' fallowing. 

Ground that was newly broken produced good crops for a long time. 
Our family's west side garden once got to producing very poor crops; and 
we let it lie untilled for two years. I do not recollect how long it was be- 
fore we let it rest again. 

There was no rule how long we shoidd use land before we fallowed it; 
nor was there any rule that we should let it rest for just two years. We 
merely knew that two years' rest brought a poorly producing field back 
into good condition. 

Sometimes a woman died and her garden was abandoned by her rela- 
tives, who perhaps had more land than they could use. For this and other 
causes, there were always some of the cultivated lands of the village lying 
vacant. We never had all our fields in use every year; there were always 
some lying untilled, either for fallowing, or for some other reason. 

If a woman died and her relatives did not care to till her garden, it was 
free to any one who cared to make use of it. However, if a woman desired 
to take possession of such an abandoned field, it was thought right that she 
should ask pennission of the dead owner's relatives. Permission might be 
asked of the dead woman's son, or daughter, her mother, her husband's 
sister, or of the husband himself. 

The woman did not wait two years before asking; if she wanted the 
dead woman's field, she just went to the relatives and asked for it. 

When the owner of a field died, I never heard that her relatives ever 
sold it; if they did not care to use it themselves, they gave it to some one 
who did, or let it lie abandoned. 



AGRICULTURE OF THE HIDATSA INDIANS 115 

Frost in the Gardens 

The fields that lay on the west side of our village got frosted more 
easily than those on the east side. Indeed, our west-side gardens suffered 
a good deal from frost. 

The reason was that the ground along the Missouri was lower on the 
west side of the village; and fields that lay on lower ground, we knew, were 
more likely to get frosted than those on higher ground. Gardens on the 
higher grounds east of the village were seldom touclied Idv frost. 

Maxt'diwiac's Philosophy of Frost 

Fields lying on lower ground catch frost more easily than those that lie 
higher. On a warm day, the ground becomes warmed; but at night cool 
air comes up out of the ground, and we can see that where it meets the warm 
air above, it creates a kind of snow [hoar frost]. 

Also, some days the wind is high; and toward evening it dies down. The 
hot airs are then sucked down into the ground and cause moisture to rise 
up out of the ground in steam. Afterwards, if the cool air comes up out of 
the ground and meets that hot air, it makes a kind of snow on the weeds 
and corn, killing them. But you can not see this steam until the cold air 
arises; then it becomes visible. 

Men Helping in the Field 

Did young men work in the fields? (laughing heartily.) Certainly not! 
The young men should be off hunting, or on a war party ; and youths not 
yet young men should be out guarding the horses. Their duties were eLe- 
where, also they spent a great deal of time dressing up to be seen of the 
village maidens ; they should not be working in the fields ! 

But old men, too old to go to war, went out into the fields and helped 
their wives. It was theirs to plant the corn while the women made the 
hills; and they also helped pull up weeds.' 

When their sweethearts were working in the fields, young men often 
came out and talked to them, and maybe worked a little. However, it 
was not much real work that they did; they were but seeking a chance 
to talk, each with his sweetheart. 

* 'In my tribe in old times, some men helped their wives in their gardens, Others did not. Those 
who did not help their wives talked against those who did. saying. 'That man's wife makes him her servanti' 

"And the others retorted. 'Look, that man puts all the hard work on his wife!' 

"Men were not alike: some did not like to work in the garden at all. and cared for nothing but to go 
around visiting or to be off on a hunt. 

"My father. Small Ankle, liked to garden and often helped his wives. He told me that that was the 
best way to do. 'Whatever you do.' he said, 'help your wife in all thingsl' He taught me to clean the 
garden, to help gather the corn to hoe. and to rake. 

"My father said that that man lived best and had plenty to eat who helped his wife. One who did 
not help his wife was likely to have scanty stores of food." — Wolf Chief (told in 1910). 



116 GILBERT LIVINGSTONE WILSON 

Slicking the Sweet Juice 

When the first green corn was plucked, we Indian women often broke 
off a piece of the stalk and sucked it for the sweet juice it contained. We 
did this merely for a little taste of sweets in the field ; wc never took the 
green stalks home to use as food at our meals. 

Did old men do this, you ask? (laughing.) How could they, with their 
teeth all worn down? Old men could not chew such hard stuff! 

No, just women and children did this — sucked the green corn stalks 
for the juice. 

Corn as Fodder for Horses 

In the early part of the harvest season, when we plucked green corn 
to boil, we gathered the ears first; afterwards we gathered the green stalks 
from which the ears had been stripped. These stalks with the leaves on 
them we fed to our horses, either without the lodge, or inside, in the corral. 

We commonly husked our corn, as I have said, out in the fields, piling 
up the husks in a heap. After the corn was all in, we drove our horses to 
the field to eat both the standing fodder and the husks that lay heaped 
near the husking place. Horses readily ate corn fodder, and by the time 
spring came again, there was little left in the field; not only were the husks 
devoured, but most of the standing stalks were eaten off nearly or quite 
to the ground. 

Disposition of Weeds 

Weeds that we cut down in hoeing a field, wc let lie on the ground if they 
were ^'oung weeds and bore no seeds nor blossoms, but if the weeds had seeded, 
we bore them off the garden about fifteen or twenty yards from the culti- 
vated grotmd and left them to rot. 

In olden times we Indian women let no weeds grow in our garden?. I 
was very particular about keeping my own garden clean all the time. 

The Spring Clcan-np 

We never liothered to burn weeds; l3ut in the spring we always cleaned 
up our fields before planting. We pulled up the stubs of corn stalks and 
roots, and piled them with the previous year's bean vines and sunflower 
stalks, in the middle of the garden and burned them; this was commonly 
done at the husking place, where the husks had been piled. There was not a 
great deal of refuse left from the corn crop, however, as the horses had eaten 
most of it for fodder in the previous fall; but bean vines they would not eat. 

I never saw any one fire their corn stalks in the fall. Our yearlv clean- 
up was always in the spring, when everj^ field must be raked and cleaned 
before planting. . . ' 



AGRICULTURE OF THE ////). 1 yvv.l IXDJAXS 117 

Manure 

We Hidatsas did not, like to liave the dun;^ of animals in our fields. 
The horses we turned into our gardens in the fall dropped dung; and where 
they did so, we found little worms and inseets. We also noted that where 
dung fell, many kinds of weeds grew up the next year. 

We did not like this, and we therefore carefully eleaned off the dried 
dung, picking it up by hand and throwing it ten feet or more beyond the 
edge of the garden plot. We did likewise with the droppings of white 
men's cattle, after they were brought to us. 

The dung of horses and cattle raised sharp thistles, the kind that grows 
up in a big bush; and mustard, and another plant that has black seeds. 
These three kinds of weeds came to us with the white man; other weeds 
we had before, but they were native to our land. 

Our corn and other vegetables can not grow on land that has many 
weeds. Now that white men have come and j)ut manure on their fields, 
these strange weeds brought by them have become common. In old times 
we Hidatsas kept our gardens clean of weeds. I think this is harder to 
do now that we have so many more kinds of weeds. 

I do not know that the worms in the manure did any harm to our 
gardens; but because we thought it bred Vv'orms and weeds, we did not like 
to have any dung on our garden lands; and we therefore removed it. 

]\'onns 

Our corn, we knew, raised a good many worms. They came out in the 
cars ; it was the corn kernels that became the worms. Wood also became 
worms. Leaves became worms. All these bred worms of themselves. 

I knew also, when I was a young woman, that flies lay eggs, that after 
a time the eggs move about alive; and that later these put on wings and flj'' 
away. Whether all flies do this, I did not know, but I knew that some do. 

Many worms appeared in our gardens in some years; in other years they 
were fewer. 

Wild Animals 

Did buffaloes or deer ever raid our gardens? (laughing.) No. Buffaloes 
have keen scent, and they could wind an Indian a long way ofT. While 
they coidd smell us Indian people, or the smoke from our village, there was 
no danger that they would come near to eat our crops. 

Antelopes lived out on the plains, in the open country; they never 
came near our fields. 

Rocky Mountain sheep lived in the clay hills, in the very roughest 
country, where cedar trees and sage Ijrush grow. 



118 GILBERT LIVINGSTONE WILSON 

Black-tailed deer lived far away in the Bad Lands, in the little round 
patches of timber that are found there, where the country is very rough. 
They were not found near our village, nor in such places as those in which 
we planted our gardens. 

White-tailed deer, however, lived in the heavy timber that lines the 
banks of the Missouri river. A few are still found on this reservation. 
However, though haunting the woods near owe gardens, these deer never 
molested our crops; they never ate our corn ears nor nibbled the stalks. 

About Old Tent Covers 

I have said that we made the threshing booth under the drying stage, 
of an old tent cover. 

Buffalo hides that we wanted to use for making tent covers, were taken 
in the spring when the buffaloes shed their hair and their skins are tliin. 
The skin tent cover which we then made would be used all that summer ; 
and the next winter, perhaps, we would begin to cut it up for moccasins. 
The following spring, again, we could take more buffalo hides and make 
another tent cover. 

Not all families renewed a tent so often. Some families used a tent 
two years, and some even a much longer time; but many families used a 
tent cover but a single season. It was a very usual thing for the women 
of a family to make a new tent cover, in the spring. 

Old tent covers, as I have said, were cut up for moccasins, or they were 
put to other vises. There was always a good deal of need about the lodge 
for skins that had been scraped bare of hair; and the skins in a tent cover 
were, of course, of this kind. Every bed in the earth lodge, in old times, 
was covered with an old tent cover. 

Skins needed in threshing time were partly of these bed covers, taken 
down from the beds. Often the piece of an old tent cover from which we 
had been cutting moccasins would be brought out and used. Then we 
commonly had other buffalo hides, scraped bare of hair, stored in the lodge, 
ready for any use. 

Buffaloes were plentiful in those days, and skins were easy to get. We 
had always abundance for use in threshing time. 



CHAPTER XII 

SINCE WHITE MEN CAME 

Hoiv Wc Got Potatoes and Other Vegetables 

The government has changed our old way of cultivating corn :ind our 
other vegetables, and has brought \is seeds of many new vegetables and 
grains, and taught us their use. We Hidatsas and our friends, the Man- 
dans, have also been removed from our village at Like-a-fishhook bend, and 
made to take our land in allotments; so that oiu" old agriculture has in a 
measure fallen into disuse. 

I was thirty-three years old when the government first plowed up fields 
for us; two big fields were broken, one between the village and the agency, 
and another on the farther side of the agency. 

New kinds of seeds were issued to us, oats and wheat; and we were 
made to plant them in these newly plowed fields. Another field was plowed 
for us down in the bottom land along the Missouri; and here we were taught 
to plant potatoes. Each family was given a certain numlier of rows to 
plant and cultivate. 

At first we Hidatsas did not like potatoes, because they smclled so 
strongly! Then we sometimes dug up our potatoes and took them into 
our earth lodges; and when cold weather came, the potatoes were frozen, 
and spoiled. For these reasons we did not take much interest in our po- 
tatoes, and often left them in the ground, not bothering to dig them. 

Other seeds were issued to us, of watermelons, big squashes, onions, 
turnips, and other vegetables. Some of these we tried to eat, but did not 
like them very well; even the turnips and big squashes, we thought not so 
good as our own squashes and our wild prairie turnips. Moreover, we did 
not know how to dry these new vegetables for winter; so we often did not 
trouble even to harvest them. 

The government was eager to teach the Indians to raise potatoes; and 
to get us women to cidtivate them, paid as much as two dollars and a half 
a day for planting them in the plowed field. I remember I was paid that 
stun for planting them. After three or four years, finding the Indians did 
not have much taste for potatoes and rather seldom ate them, our agent 
made a big cache pit — a root cellar you say it was — and bought our potato 
crop of us. After this he would issue seed potatoes to us in the spring, and 
in the fall we would sell our crop to him. Thus, handling potatoes each 
year, we learned little by little to eat them. 

119 



120 GILBERT LIVINGSTONE WILSON 



The New Cultivation 



The government also broke up big fields of prairie ground, and had us 
plant corn in them; but these fields on the prairie near the hills I do not 
think are so good as our old fields down in the timber lands along the 
Missouri. The prairie fields get dry easily and the soil is harder and 
more difficult to work. 

Then I think our old way of raising corn is better than the new way 
taught us by white men. Last 3'ear, 1911, our agent held an agricultm-al 
fair on this reservation; and we Indians competed for prizes for the best 
corn. The corn which I sent to the fair took the first prize. I raised it 
on new ground; the ground had been plowed, but aside from that, I 
cultivated the corn exactly as in old times, with a hoe. 

Iron Kettles 

The first pots, or kettles, of metal that we Hidatsas got were of yellow 
tin [brass]; the French and the Crees also traded us kettles made of red 
tin [copper]. 

As long as we could get our native clay pots, we of my father's family 
did not use metal pots much, because the metal made the food taste. When 
I was a little girl, if any of us went to visit another family, and they gave us 
food cooked in an iron pot, we knew it at once because we could taste and 
smell the iron in the food. 

I have said that we began cooking food in an iron kettle in my father's 
family v\'hen I was about eighteen years old; but the great iron kettle that 
lies in Goodbird's yard was given us by an Arikara woman before I was born. 



CHAPTER XIII 
TOBACCO 

Observations by Maxi'diwiac 

Tobacco was cultivated in my tribe only bj^ old men. Our young men 
did not smoke much; a few did, but most of them used little tobacco, or 
almos; none. They were taught that smoking would injure their lungs 
and make them short winded so that they would he poor runners. But 
when a man got to be about sixty years of age we thought it right for him 
to smoke as much as he liked. His war days and himting days were over. 
Old men smoked quite a good deal. 

Young men who used tobacco could run; but in a short time they be- 
came short of breath, and water, thick like syrup, came up into the mouth. 
A young man who smoked a great deal, if chased by enemies, coidd not 
run to escape from them, and so got killed. For this reason all the young 
men of my tribe were taught that they should not smoke. 

Things have changed greatly since those good days; and now young 
and old, boys and men, all smoke. They seem to think that the new ways 
of the white man are right; btit I do not. In olden days, we Hidatsas took 
good care of our bodies, as is not done now. 

The Tobacco Garden 

The old men of my tribe who smoked had each a tol^acco garden planted 
not ^"ery far away from our corn fields, but never in the same plot wfth 
one. Two of these tobacco gardens were near the village, upon the top 
of some rising ground; they were owned b}' two old men, Bad Horn and 
Bear-looks-up. The earth lodges of these old men stood a little way out 
of the village, and their tobacco gardens were not far away. Bear-looks-up 
called my father "brother" and I often visited his lodge. 

Tobacco gardens, as I remember them, were almost universal in mj' 
tribe when I was five or six years of age; they were still commonly planted 
when I was twelve years old; but white men had been bringing in their 
tobacco and selling it at the traders' stores for some years, and our tobacco 
gardens were becoming neglected. 

As late as when I was sixteen, my father still kept his tobacco garden; 
but since that day individual gardens have not been kept in my tribe. 
Instead, just a little space in the vegetable garden is planted with seed if 
the owner wishes to raise tobacco. 

The seed we use is the same that we planted in old times. A big insect 
that we caU the "tobacco blower" used always to be found around our 

121 



122 GILBERT LIVINGSTONE WILSON 

tobacco gardens; and this insect still appears about the little patches of 
tobacco that we plant. 

The reason that tobacco gardens were planted apart from our vege- 
table fields in old times was, that the tobacco plants have a strong smell 
which affects the com; if tobacco is planted near the corn, the growing com 
stalks turn yellow and the corn is not so good. Tobacco plants were there- 
fore kept out of our corn fields. We do not follow this custom now; and 
I do not think our new way is as good for the corn. 

Planting 

Tobacco seed was planted at the same time sunflower seed was planted. 

The owner took a hoe and made soft every foot of the tobacco garden; 
and with a rake he made the loosened soil level and smooth. 

He marked the ground with a stick into rows about eighteen inches 
apart. He opened a little package of seed, poured the seed into his left 
palm, and with his right sowed the seed very thickly in the row. He covered 
the newly sowed seed very lightly with soil which he raked with his hand. 

When rain came, and warmth, the seeds sprouted. The seed having 
been planted thickly, the plants came ttp thickly, so that they had to be 
thinned out. The owner of the garden would weed out the weak plants, 
leaving only the stronger standing. 

The earth about each plant was hilled up about it with a buffalo rib, 
into a little hill like a corn hill. It was a common thing to see an old man 
working in his tobacco garden with one of these ribs. Young men seldom 
worked in the tobacco gardens; not using tobacco very much, they cared 
little about it. 

Arrow-head-earring's Tobacco Garden 

An old man, I remember, named Arrow-head-earring, or Ma'ia-pokcahec, 
had a patch of tobacco along the edge of a field on the east side of the vil- 
lage. He was a very old man. He used a big buffalo rib, sharpened on 
the edge, to work the soil and cultivate his tobacco. He caught the rib in 
his hands by both ends with the edge downward; and stooping over, he 
scraped the soil toward him, now and then raising the rib up and loosening 
the earth with the point at one end — poking up the soil, so to speak. 

He wore no shirt as he worked; but he had a buffalo robe about his 
middle, on which he knelt as he worked. 

Small Ankle's Cultivation 

My father always attended to the planting of his tobacco garden. When 
the seed sprouted he thinned out the plants, weeded the ground and hilled 
up the tobacco plants later with his own hands. 



AGRICULTURE OF THE HID ATS A INDIANS 125- 

Tobacco plants often came up wild from seed dropped by the culti- 
vated plants. These wild plants seemed just as good as the cultivated 
ones. There seemed little preference between them. 

Harvesting the Blossoms 

Tobacco plants began to blossom about the middle of June; and pick- 
ing then began. Tobacco was gathered in two harvests. The first harvest 
was of these blossoms, which we reckoned the best part of the plant for 
smoking. Old men were fond of smoking them. 

Blossoms were picked regularly every fourth day after the season set 
in. If we neglected to pick them until the fifth day, the blossoms would 
begin to seed. 

This picking of the blossoms my father often did, but as he was old, 
and the work was slow and took a long time, my sister and I used to helii 
him. 

I well remember how my sister and I used to go out in late summer, 
when the plants were in bloom, and gather the white blossoms. These I 
would pluck from the plants, pinching them off with my thumb nail. 
Picking blossoms was tedious work. The tobacco got into one's eyes and 
made them smart just as white men's onions do to-day. 

We picked, as I have said, every fourth day. Only the green part of the 
blossom was kept. The white part I always threw away ; it was of no value. 

To receive the blossoms I took a small basket with me to the garden. 
There were two kinds used; one was the bark basket that we wove, and 
of which you have specimens; the other kind was made of a buffalo bull's 
scrotum, with hair side out. 

Such a basket as the latter was a little larger than the crown of a white 
man's hat, the hat band being about the same diameter as the rim that we 
put on the basket. It had the usual band to go over forehead or shoulders. 
I bore the basket in the usual way on my back; or I could swing it around 
on my breast when actually picking, thus making it easy to drop the blos- 
soms into it. 

More often, however, I took the basket off and set it on the ground 
when plucking blossoms. I would make a little round place in the soft soil 
with my hands and set the basket in it, so that it would stand upright. The 
basket did not collapse, for the skin covering was tough and rigid, not soft. 

I often used the scrotum basket also for picking choke-cherries or June 
berries. It was more convenient when berrying to carry the basket swung 
around on my breast. Going home with the basket filled with berries, I 
bore it in the usual way on my back. 

My father usually worked with us; and indeed it was to help him, be- 
cause he was old, that we picked the blossoms at all. It was slow work. 



124 GILBERT LIVINGSTONE WILSON 

I did not expect to gather more than a fourth of a small basketful every 
four days; and as the blossoms shrunlc a good deal in drying, a day's pick- 
ing looked rather scant. 

When we fetched the blossoms home to the lodge, my father would 
spread a dry hide on the floor in front of his sacred objects of the Big Birds' 
ceremony; they were two skulls and a sacred pipe, wrapped in a bundle 
and lying on a kind of stand. We regarded these objects as a kind of 
slirine. Nobody ever walked between the fire and the shrine as that would 
have been a kind of disrespect to the gods. My father spread the new- 
plucked blossoms on the hide to dry. Lying here before the shrine, it was 
certain no one would forget and step on the blossoms. 

It took quite a time to dry the blossoms. If the weather was damp 
and murky for sevei-al days, my father, on appearance of the sun again, 
would move the hide over to a place where the sun shining through the 
smoke hole, would fall on the blossoms. The smoke hole, being rather 
large, would let through quite a strong sunbeam, and the drying blossoms 
were kept directly in the beam. 

When the blossoms had quite dried, my father fetched them over near 
the fireplace, and put them on a small skin, or on a plank. We commonly 
had planks, or boards, split from cotton\^-ood trunks, lying in the lodge; 
they had many uses. 

]My father then took a piece of buffalo fat, thrust it on the end of a 
stick and roasted it slowly over the coals. This piece of hot fat he touched 
lightly here and there to the piled-up blossoms, so as to oil them slightly, 
but not too much. He next moved the sldn or board down over the edge 
of the fire pit, tipping it slightly so that the heat from the fire would strike 
the blossoms. Here he left them a little while, but watching them all the 
time. Now and then he would gently stir the pile of blossoms with a little 
stick, so that the whole mass mig'nt be oiled equally. 

This done my father took up the blossoms and put them into his to- 
bacco bag. The tobacco bag that we used then was exactly like that used 
to-day, ornamented with quills or bead work ; only in those days old men 
never bothered to ornament their tobacco bags, just having them plain. 

When my father wanted to smoke these dried blossoms, he drew them 
from his tobacco bag and chopped them fine with a knife, a pipeful at a 
time. Cured in this way, tobacco blossoms were called aduatakidu'cki. 
They were smoked by old men unmixed. 

The blossoms were always dried within the lodge. If dried without, 
the sun and air took away their strength. 

Harvesting the Plants 

About harvest time, just before frost came, the rest of the plants were 
gathered — the stems and leaves, I mean, left after the harvesting of the 



AGRICULTURE OF THE IIIDATSA INDIANS 125 

blossoms. My father attended to this. He took no basket, but fetched 
the plants iia his arms. 

He dried the plants in the lodge near the place where the cache pit lay. 
For this he took sticks, about fifteen inches long, and thrust them over 
the beam between two of the exterior sujoporting posts, so that the sticks 
pointed a little upwards. On each of these sticks he hung two or three 
tobacco plants by thrusting the jilants, root up, upon the stick, liut with- 
out tying them. 

When dry, these plants were taken down and ]nit into a bag; or a pack- 
age was made by folding over them a piece of old tent cover; and the pack- 
age or bag was stored away in the cache pit. 

When the tobacco plants were quite dry, the leaves readily fell oh". 
Leaves that remained on the plants were smoked, of course; but it was the 
stems that furnished most of the smoking. They were treated like the 
blossoms, with buffalo fat, before putting into the tobacco pouch; wc did 
not treat tobacco with buffalo fat except as needed for use, and to be put 
into the tobacco pouch, ready for smoking. 

I do not remember that my father ever saved any of the blossoms to 
store away in the cache pit, as he did the stem, or plant tobacco. Friends 
and visitors were alwaj's coming and going; and when they came into the 
lodge my father v.'ould smoke with them, using the blossoms first, because 
they were his best tobacco. In this way, tine blossoms were used up about 
as fast as they were gathered. 

Before putting the tobacco away in the cache pit, my father v/as care- 
ful to put aside seed for the next j-ear's jilanting. He gathered the black 
seeds into a small bundle about as big as my fingers bunched together, or 
about the size of a baljy's fist, wrapping them u]i in a piece of soil skin 
which he tied with a string. He made two or three of these liundlcs and 
tied them to the top of his Ijcd, or to a post near by, where there was no 
danger of their being disturbed. 

W'e had no way of selecting tobacco seed. We just gathered any seed 
that was borne on the plants. Of course there were alwax's good and bad 
seeds in every package; but as the ovrner of a toijaceo garden always planted 
his seed very thickly, he was able to weed out all the weak plants as they 
came up, as I have already explained. 

A tobacco plant, pulled up and hung up in the lodge, v.-e called o']niti: 
opi, tobacco, and uti, base, fomidation, substantial part. 

The Alandans and Arikaras raised tobacco exactly as wc did, in little 
gardens. • , 

Selling to tlic Sioux 

W^ used to .sell a good deal of tobacco to the Sioux. They caned it 
Pana'nitach.ani, or Ree's tobacco. 



126 GILBERT LIVINGSTONE WILSON 

A bunch six or seven inches in diameter, bound together, we sold for 
one tanned hide. 

Size of Tobacco Garden 

My father's tobacco garden, when I was a little girl, was somewhat 
larger than this room ; and that, as you measure it, is twenty-one by eighteen 
feet. I have seen other tobacco gardens planted by old men that measured 
somewhat larger; but this was about the average size. 

Customs 

If any one went into a tobacco garden and took tobacco without noti- 
fying the owner, we said that his hair would fall out ; and If any one in the 
village began to lose his hair, and it kept coming out when he brushed it, 
we would laugh and say, "Hey, hey, you man! You have been stealing 
tobacco!" 

What? You say you got this tobacco out of Wolf Chief's garden with- 
out asking? (laughing heartily.) Then be sure your hair will fall out when 
you comb it. Just watch, and see if it doesn't! 

I have said that my father softened the soil of his tobacco garden with 
a hoe. After the plants began to grow, the hoe was not used, either for 
cutting the weeds or for hilling up the plants. I have said that the weak 
plants were culled out by hand, and that the strong plants were hilled up 
with a buffalo rib. 

Accessories to the Tobacco Garden 
Fence 

When I was a little girl every tobacco garden had a willow fence around it. 

I remember very well seeing such fences built. Post holes were made 
by driving a sharp stake into the ground with an ax; the stake was with- 
drawn, and into the hole left by it, a diamond willow was thrust for a post; 
on this willow were left all the upper branches with the leaves. A rail 
was run from the post to its next neighbor, at the height of a woman's 
shoulder, and stayed in place by bending over the leafy top of the willow 
post, and drawing it around the rail, then twisting it down and around the 
body of the post in a spiral manner. If the leafy top of the post was long 
enough, and slender enough, it might, after being wrapped spirally about 
the post, be even drawn out and woven into the fence. 

Below the top rail at a convenient distance, there ran a second rail, 
bound to the post with bark. Besides these rails, branches and twigs, and 
as I have said, the tops of the posts themselves, were interwoven into the 
fence to make it as dense as possible. 



AGRICULTURE OF THE HI DATS A INDIANS 



127 



The posts of the fence stood about two and a half feet apart, making, 
with the rails and the interwoven twigs, a barrier so dense that even a dog 
could not push through it. 

There was an opening left to enter the garden, closed by a kind of stile- 
bars of small poles thrust right and left between the posts; against these 
bars were leaned one or two bull berry bushes, which were removed when 
the owner wanted to enter. 

If a weak place was found in the fence, it was strengthened with a bull 
berry bush thrust into the groinid and leaned against the fence or woven 
into it. 

Tlic Scrotum Basket 

I have said that we used a basket made of 
the scrotum of a buffalo bull, for picking tobacco 
blossoms. 'iY> 

A fresh scrotum was taken, and a rim or hoop 
of choke-cherrj' wood was bound around its mouth ; 
choke-cherry limbs are flexible and easily bent. 
The hoop was sewed in place with sinew passing 
through the skin and around the hoop spirally. 

A thong was bound at either end to opposite 
sides of the hoop, and the whole was hung upon 
the drying stage, or at the entrance to the earth 
lodge in the sun. The skin was then filled with 
sand until dry, when it was emptied, the thong 
removed, and a band, or leather handle, was bound 
on one side of the hoop, at places a few inches 
apart, and the basket was ready for use. 

The scrotum is the toughest part of the buffalo's hide, 
it is as hard and rigid as wood. 

Figure 39 is a sketch by Goodbird showing what the basket was like. 




Figure 39 

Reproduced from sketch by 

Goodbird. 



When dried 



128 



GILBERT LIVINGSTONE WILSON 



Bi9 Foot Bull 




Small Ankle 



OLD GARDEN SITES NEAR INDEPENDENCE 

Down in the bottoms along the Missouri near Independence school 
house are the gardens — now abandoned — used by the neighboring,' families 
when they first came to this part of the reservation, about 1886. 

The fields are plainly marked in the underbrush and trees from tlie fact 
that they are relatively open. Goodbird accompanied me to the so\ cral 
locations and I made maps of the fields, which I include in figure 40. While 
not accurately surveyed — I had to pace off the distances — the fields are 
fairly accurately represented by the maps. 

Figure 40, /, is a diagram in vertical section of the land surface in which 
the gardens lie. Toward the right is seen the basin of the Missouri river. 
At the extreme left is a bit of the prairie that abuts the foothills. Be- 
tween are two level terraces, one eighty yards, the other and lower, one 
hundred and seventy-five yards in width. Four of the gardens lie in tlie 
eighty-yard terrace; field A, of Small Ankle; B of Big Foot Bull; E of Crow's 
Breast, and //, a small bit of ground used by the Small Ankle family for a 
squash garden. Gardens C of Small Horn; D of Leggings; F of Crow's 
Breast; and G of Cedar Woman, lie in the lower and wider terrace. 

With one exception the fields are called by the names of the male heads 
of the families, a custom that probably began at the time allotments were 
first made. 

The relative positions of the fields are not as shown in the figure, except 
of A and B, the gardens of Small Ankle and Big Foot Bull. These are 
separated b}' a wagon road that descends to the lower terrace, as indicated 
on the map. 

Doubtless the two terraces have been made by over-flow waters. It is 
likely that both are still subject to overflow at long intervals, especially 
the lower. The soil is light and sandy, but black and rich. The overflow 
of the river would seem to suggest that the land would be fertilized by silt 
deposited upon it; but my Indian informants seem to attach no significance 
to this. Fields were located near the Missouri "because the soil there is 
soft and easily worked, and does not become dry and burn up the crops." 

Gilbert L. Wilson. 



129 



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